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SHE PINNED A CAKNATION ON HIS COAT. 

Frontispiece. Page I^. 


The 

Girl Question 

FOUNDED ON THE PLAY OF WILL M. HOUGH AND 
FEANK E. ADAMS 


BY 

JOHN W. HARDING 

Author of “The Time, The Place and the Girl,” “Paid in 
Full,” “The Chorus Lady,” Etc. 


"Any guy ought to cop out a Love, Honor and Obey as 
soon as he raises the price.” — Wisdom of Con. 



Illustrations by 
GORDON GRANT 

G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS NEW YORK 



ijUBMAity of oomRiss 
3 t wo Conies I 

I OCT 16 li^Ub ^ 



Copyright, 1908, by 


G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY 


The Girl Question 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

She pinned a carnation on his coat Frontispiece 12 

“A waitress! Most extraordinary, upon my word”. 51 
“I wouldn’t talk if I were you. Anybody knows ^ 

He stood aghast, stunned, unable to move or speak . . 144 

‘'Everybody said I was crazy to marry an old fool 

like you” 158 

He produced a knife, a bunch of keys and the twenty 

dollar gold piece 197 



The Girl Question 


CHAPTER I 

It was busy Chicago’s busy lunch hour, and 

in the Golden Palace restaurant the clatter of 

knives and forks and crockery mingled with 

the hum of conversation like the continuous 

firing of a Gatling gun. Situated in La Salle 

Street, the Golden Palace was frequented chiefly 

by business men and clerks who had little time 

or inclination to dally with the delicacies which 

constituted a standing libel on the high-sound-' 

ing names with which they were designated on 

the menu. After the manner of business men 

in the middle of the day in all American cities 

they bolted their food with reckless disregard 
\ 

7 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


of the consequences to their digestive appara- 
tus, but each and all found time to linger 
over the settling of his check at the cashier’s 
desk. For behind the desk sat Elsie Davis, 
and when it is explained that she was reputed 
to be one of the handsomest women in 
the city; that she was vivacious in the ex- 
treme, and that it was her custom to lean for- 
ward and pin a carnation on the coat of every 
male patron as he handed over the money in 
settlement of his bill, the secret of the restau- 
rant’s popularity will be apparent to every- 
body, and none will be the least bit surprised 
by the additional statement that in the process 
of being decorated with the flower in the full 
sunlight of Miss Davis’ smile, many a flattered 
diner neglected or gallantly “forgot” to gather 
up the change which she placed upon the desk. 

Elsie Davis was tall, blonde, rosy complex- 
ioned, with big violet eyes and white even teeth. 

8 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


Even the jealous waitresses, themselves by no 
means deficient in personal charms, conceded 
that she was a “swell looker,” as they phrased 
it, and it is hardly to be wondered at that 
Cornelius Ryan, better and more appropriately 
known as “Con” Ryan, who managed the res- 
taurant for the company owning the place, 
should have lost his heart — and also his head — 
to her, so that she reigned the undisputed sov- 
ereign of the Palace. Con, by virtue of his 
position as manager, and of his good looks and 
sunny disposition, basked in the cashier’s favor 
and passed his days seesawing between the 
roseate heights of hope and bliss and the dark 
depths of hopelessness and despair ; for with all 
his aplomb and “blarney” in conducting the 
business confided to him, he became as timid 
as a mouse, and his tongue clove to the roof of 
his mouth, whenever he sought to make known 
his passion to the object of it. 


9 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


Engaged in conversation with his stunning 
cashier he paid no attention to the customers 
who streamed in, most of them greeting her 
with a smile and raising their hats as they 
passed, for she was in most encouraging mood, 
and the bustle and excitement of the moment 
with the continual interruptions had embold- 
ened him to venture from casual remarks to 
the subject which engrossed his mind and 
senses, and which in quietness and alone with 
her he would have been incapable of broaching. 

“Say,” he blurted, getting the declaration in 
edgeways between the departure from the desk 
of one customer and the arrival of another. “I 
got something to tell you. Maybe you’ll be 
glad to hear it.” 

“Is it a secret?” she demanded sweetly. 

“It is to everybody but you.” 

She affected surprise. 

“Why to everybody but me?” 


10 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“Aw, I don’t know,” he explained bashfully, 
“except that I want it to sound better to you 
and me than to anybody else.” 

“Is it another funny story?” 

“You got past my guard all right that time. 
Naw, it ain’t funny ; that’s why it makes me so 
groggy when I try to tell it to you. I’m all to the 
gravy when it comes to the kiddin’ game, but 
any time I try to get down to cases, on the dead, 
I’m an awful frost. What I want to say is — 
why — er — ” 

“Whisper it in my ear,” she smiled, leaning 
forward encouragingly. 

“Naw,” he protested, “it ain’t nothin’ except 
that His Nobs told me he was goin’ to give me 
an interest in the business here the first of the 
year.” 

“Oh, won’t that be dandy!” exclaimed the 
girl enthusiastically. “You don’t know how 
glad I am.” 


11 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


Con flushed crimson with embarrassment as 
he stammered: 

“I — I’m glad that you’re glad. Kind of think 
I’ll fix the place up a little. I was spellin’ with 
a contractor yesterday and he says I can fix the 
place up great with a Flemish oak ceilin’,* or 
something like that, for three thousand dollars, 
if I steal the lumber.” 

“What’s this extra twenty-five cents for?” 
interrupted a man who evidently was dis- 
pleased. 

“What did you have?” she inquired, taking 
his check. 

“Eggs — ” 

“That’s for storage,” she cut in before he 
could get any further, and she fiashed at him 
an entrancing smile that disclosed her glisten- 
ing teeth as she pinned a carnation on his 
coat. The man raised no further question 


12 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


about the amount of his bill and went his way 
with a gratified smirk. 

“You must use up about a million carnations 
a week this way,” commented Con. “You give 
"em to every man.” 

“Yes, but it pays,” she replied. “The men I 
like best I give white ones to — that is, to the 
unmarried men.” 

“How can you tell whether or not they’re 
married?” 

“Well, I pin a carnation on a man’s coat. If 
he comes back the next day still wearing it he’s 
unmarried. But about the decorations you are 
going to have done. Can I help design them?” 

“Say, you can do a whole lot more than that 
if you want to.” 

“Do you mean picking out some new tables or 
selecting the waitresses?” 

“Naw, nothin’ like that,” he said becoming 


13 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


terribly bashful again. “Say, I ain’t there when 
it comes to the straight talk. Every time I try 
to cut out the small town comedy I get paralysis 
of the bell clapper and it crabs the whole act. 
Maybe if I went out and hoisted in the tall boys 
till I was sprung, I might be able to hand it to 
you straight. Say, when I get that interest 
in the biz. I’ll be makin’ enough to get married.” 

“What about it?” 

“Aw, nothin,” he said, more embarrassed 
than ever by this leading question. “Guess I 
ought to be able to salt quite a wad in my kick if 
business keeps up and maybe — ” 

“Maybe what?” 

“Aw, nothin’. I think any guy ought to cop 
out a Love, Honor and Obey, as soon as he 
raises the price. I guess I almost got my mit 
on my bundle, so that’s why I thought I’d come 
and — and — ” 

“And what?” 


14 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“Aw, nothin’. Gee! I’m a crippled goat in 
this game, so I guess I better ditch it for a 
while before I throw up the sponge. Anyhow 
I’m glad I ain’t got to buck up against the cold 
outside like most young guys when they start 
in workin’.” 

Perspiration on his brow indicated the effort 
this attempted excursion into the land of the 
tender where he had ventured to the verge of 
a declaration of marriage had cost him. All his 
suddenly acquired courage had fizzled out com- 
pletely and the diversion caused by a call to 
duty filled him with an immense relief. 

“Mr. Ryan, there’s an old guy cutting up and 
beefing about everything. He’s hollering for 
the head waiter.” 

The speaker, a waitress, petite and brunette, 
with a tilt to her nose just sufficient to give her 
keen, intelligent physiognomy an added touch of 
piquancy, spoke in no amiable tone as she 
15 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


glanced sullenly from Con to the cashier. She 
indicated an elderly man upon whom the eyes 
of all the diners were concentrated. He was a 
somewhat portly individual with short cropped 
side whiskers and an air of conscious impor- 
tance. 

“Gee! that’s Sears!” exclaimed the manager, 
hurrying over to him. 

“Put me wise,” requested the waitress hastily 
to the cashier. “Who is Sears?” 

“What, Jo, never heard of T. P. Q. Sears?” 
replied Miss Davis, astonished. “Well, he only 
owns several railroads and has got La Salle 
Street and about forty theatres in his pocket, 
that’s ^alh He’s just married for the second 
time.” 

“Married one of the four hundred, I sup- 
pose?” 

“Yes — one of the two ciphers. She was his 
stenographer. His first wife was a society lady 
16 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


and she was out so much that he only met her 
once a week. This time he married his stenog- 
rapher so as not to take any chances. I expect 
' him to help me after I get to be an actress.” 

“Are you going to be an actress?” 

“Yes, I want to get on the stage the worst 
way.” 

“The worst way? Then join the chorus,” 
came the recommendation with a laugh and 
“Jo,” otherwise Josephine Sargent, tripped 
away to wait upon the magnate as she estimated 
in her mind the probable figure of her prospec- 
tive tip. 


17 


CHAPTER II 


“What kind of management do you have in 
this place, anyhow?” growled the great Mr. 
Sears as Con appeared before him. “In the 
first place, the waitress supposed to be attend- 
ing to this table doesn’t pay any attention to 
me.” 

“Did you try her on baseball?” inquired the 
manager with his genial smile. “She’ll warm 
up after a while. Try sendin’ her flowers and 
see how she falls for it. You got to know how 
to handle ’em — but don’t weaken. All the shirt- 
waists here are favorites, and if you pull any 
sand paper work on ’em, you’re liable to land 
with your map in the sawdust. Oh — I forgot 
to ask,” he added, seeing that his effort at face- 
tiousness had served only to incense the man 

is’ 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


still further. “Is there anything wrong with 
the food?” 

“What do you think I called you in here for?” 
roared Sears, glaring at him. 

“I thought maybe you was going to tip me to 
somethin’ soft that was going to be pulled off 
at the track this afternoon,” replied Con 
suavely. 

“Look at this dinner — would you eat it?” 

“No, but maybe I’m prejudiced. I don’t eat 
here.” 

“Look at that chicken. I suppose you think 
it’s all right?” 

“Yeh,” said Con dubiously, rubbing his chin, 
“that’s Tommy. He’s all right. I’ve known 
him for years.” 

“And this soup. Can you explain why you 
serve such funny colored stuff?” 

“Well, Mr. Sears, sir, we’ve got a funny 
colored cook.” 


19 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“That’ll be about all of that,” commanded the 
great man, pounding the table with his fist. 
“I’m a business man, not a pin-head, ten-dollar- 
a-week clerk, and my time is worth money. 
Understand what I mean?” 

Then glaring at the waitress he added : 

“I told you I wanted mushrooms with this 
steak. Why isn’t there any ?” 

“There ain’t any working here,” replied the 
girl coolly. 

“And as to the steak, I couldn’t make any 
impression on it.” 

“Try one of the waitresses,” suggested Con 
with his disarming smile. “What else did you 
order?” 

“Why, that chicken. Did you ever see any- 
thing like it?” 

The manager was becoming embarrassed. 

“We’ve got a dog that likes it,” he stam- 


20 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


mered. “Say, I heard a funny story the other 
day. It was about — ” 

“Listen to me,” interrupted Sears, “under- 
stand what I mean? Would you say that 
chicken was ready to eat?” 

“I don’t know, he had a late breakfast. 
Gee !” he exclaimed as the diner turned it over 
showing the other side burned to a cinder, 
“There’s been a fire here. Jo, tell Billy I want 
to see him at once.” 

In a moment a big coal black negro in a 
cook’s hat and apron shuffled up. 

“No, sah — mah goodness, Mistah Ryan,” he 
began in an effort to stall off trouble, “ah 
nevah see sech a stove — no sah — no time.” 

“Where did you get that chicken?” demanded 
Con indicating the blackened mass. 

“Ah doan know fuh suah, but ah reckon ah 
got him in the back of de neck. Kain’t you see 
no mark on him?” 


21 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“Is the fire still goin’?” 

“No, sah — it’s done gone. Mah goodness, ah 
nevah see sech a stove, no time. Lemme ’splain 
all ’bout dat chicken. Mah goodness, ah nevah 
see sech a chicken — yo’ see ah was chasin’ ’at 
chicken ’ith one han’ an’ tendin’ ’at ole stove 
’ith the othah — wasn’t doin’ no reg’lah cookin’, 
Mistah Ryan, no sah — jes’ kind o’ practicin’, but 
it won’t nevah happen no mo’ — no sah, no time. 
Dey dog-gone stove was suttin’ly actin’ up mos’ 
scrumptious dis mawnin’. Mah goodness, ah 
nevah see sech a stove. But ah suah can fix dat 
chicken, jest lemme scrape him off where he’s 
burnt an’ he’s jest as good as new. Yo, know, 
Mistah Ryan, ’at when it comes to cookin’ ah 
suah can handle anything, but yo’ see dis mawn- 
in’ dat dog-gone stove — ” 

Con interrupted him curtly. 

“Cut out all the trapeze work, Billy,” he 


22 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


ordered “and get down to cases, because if you 
ever let any chicken like that vamp out of the 
kitchen I’ll come and bounce a rolling pin 
on your lid until there won’t be no chance for 
the bones to knit. This place is goin’ to be a 
reg’lar cafe. You ain’t cookin’ for no three- 
dollar oatmeal joint, where the teamsters do 
their sword-swallowing. I rescued you from 
a deep sea-going lunch wagon, and if you don’t 
cut out the colored weekly jokes there’ll be fire- 
works all over the place, and you’ll be found 
left in the vermicelli. Do you get me ?” 

“Well, lemme ’splain, mah goodness, ah nevah 
see sech a stove, no time.” 

But the manager wanted no further explana- 
tion. He hustled the ebony deity of the kitchen 
unceremoniously back to the regions from which 
he had emerged. 

Jo in the meantime made an unsuc- 


23 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


cessful attempt to placate the irate customer. 

“What would you like to have the orchestra 
play?” she demanded. 

“Have ’em play dead,” he growled, but he 
kept his gaze upon her as he tapped the table 
nervously in his impatience. 

The manager, also anxious to satisfy such 
a distinguished patron, returned quickly. 

“Now, can’t we frame up something nice for 
you instead of that chicken?” he said. “You 
know we don’t want to lose your business. Try 
our home made mince pie.” 

“I did— it’s not guilty.” 

“Then let me hand you our forty-cent table 
d’hote with a bottle of writing fluid thrown in. 
Remember, it’s all on the house. Then you can 
vamp over to the cigar counter and pick out the 
swellest hay-fever torch in the place.” 

“Is this venison steak from a real deer?” 

“Yes — a long ways from it,” put in Jo. 

24 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“Bring it quick, then — also a rum omelette. 
Understand what I mean?’’ 

While the girl hurried to give the order Con 
tried to keep the capitalist’s attention occupied. 

“I’m goin’ to have an interest in this place 
after New Year’s,- he confided. “I guess I 
ought to connect with an awful bundle of samo- 
leons if this business keeps up.” 

“You won’t unless you fire most of your 
waitresses,” Sears told him. “They don’t know 
their business.” 

“Say, they ain’t supposed to know nothin’ 
about waitin’ on a table. They win on their 
looks, take it from me. Why, a swell lookin’ 
dame like that could feed Paris green to those 
guys an’ they’d think it was lobster a la New- 
burg. Can you imagine an Indian waltzing up 
to a Queen of Sheba like that an’ tellin’ her 
to slip him a ham on rye? Nix on your tin- 
type. When she turns her lamps on him he 
25 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


gets groggy an’ loses his voice, an’ when he 
comes to he’s booked for a two dollar porter- 
house. There’s nothin’ to it.” 

The conversation was interrupted by a young 
man who rose from a neighboring table and 
approached Sears. 

“I’m a reporter for the Gazahoo,*' he an- 
nounced confidentially. “I want to ask you 
about this new theatrical combine you are sup- 
posed to be making.” 

“You do!” retorted the magnate with a 
frown. “Well, when I’ve got anything to tell 
the newspapers about my affairs. I’ll send for 
you. Understand what I mean?” 

“Yes, but I was told that you were trying 
to get control of the Grand Central railway sys- 
tem, and I wanted — ” 

“That will do. I’m hungry and I want food, 
not talk. When I feel the need of conversation 
I take lunch with my wife.” 


26 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


At this juncture Jo returned with the order 
and pushed the enterprising scribe away. 

“Go sit down and be a good boy, Mac,” she 
said. “You’ll live longer.^’ 

“I wanted a rum omelette,” commented 
Sears, turning over suspiciously the yellow con- 
coction on his plate. 

“That’s the rummest omelette we can make,” 
retorted the girl. 

“Ask that colored cook to step here a minute.” 

“Ain’t you went yet, suh?” demanded that 
worthy with a grin as he shuffled up to him. 
“Ah’m suttinly pleased to meet yo’ agin, suh.” 

“Mr. Sears wants to know what’s the matter 
with his eggs,” said Jo. 

“Ain’t nuffin’ the matter ’ith them aigs. 
Ah’m pussonly ’cquainted ’ith ’em— knowed ’em 
fob a long time — mos’ a month.” 

“But this is only cooked on one side. It 
hasn’t been turned over.” 

27 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“Ah sho’ly am sorry, Mistah, ’bout ’em aigs. 
Ah jes’ can’t train so’se ’ey’ll turn over. Nevah 
had but one aig ’at could do it. ’At aig could 
turn handsprings, suh — an’ Ah sho’ hated to 
part wif it. You see, suh. Ah can’t rightly do 
nuffin’ wif ’at stove out theah. Mah goodness. 
Ah nevah see sech a stove.” 

Jo trod on his foot as a hint to go, and the 
cook, still grinning, ambled off. 

“What’s the matter, won’t the stove work?” 
inquired Sears. 

“No,” answered Jo, “and what’s worse the 
cook won’t work either.” 

The man considered her attentively. 

“You’re brighter than some of these girls,” 
he said at last. “Have you been a waitress all 
your life?” 

“Not yet.” 

“Do you earn a good deal here?” 


28 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“I earn about twice what I get. Can I do 
anything more for you?” 

“No, but maybe the doctors can. Say, by the 
way, I need a stenographer.” 

“I thought you married one?” 

“That’s why I need another. Do you know 
anything about typewriting?” 

“Not much, but I can learn.” 

“You can learn anything if you buckle down 
and work hard.” 

“Yeh — that’s the only way — at least for me. 
I never got anything yet that I didn’t fight for, 
and I suppose I’ll always have to fight for any- 
thing I get.” 

“You’re right; and anything you can get 
belongs to you by right of conquest. That’s my 
principle. I fought for all I’ve got — dollar by 
dollar. I had to take it away from other peo- 
ple — yes — but if they had been fit to handle 
their own money I wouldn’t have gotten it. 

29 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


Money is power. I wanted power, so I got 
together all the money I could. Ask any man 
in this great American country to-day what 
his aim in life is, and he’ll tell you it’s getting 
together enough money so that he’ll be more 
powerful than his neighbors. Men were 
knighted in the sixteenth century because they 
crushed their adversaries. We get money — 
power — to-day, by doing the same thing. 
Understand what I mean?” 

“Do you think it would be a good thing for 
this country if the poor people thought the way 
you do?” 

“Humph ! If they thought the way I do they 
wouldn’t be poor people. That’s all — ^bring me 
my check. If you need a job come around to 
my office.” 

“Thanks,” said the girl. “Maybe I’ll be glad 
to, one of these days.” 


30 



CHAPTER III. 

As Jo departed to fetch the bill, four young 
fellows, whose manner and attire proclaimed 
them loudly as college men, sauntered in. The 
best looking and the best dressed individual of 
the party surveyed the restaurant with leisurely 
interest. He was evidently the leader to whom 
the other members of the quartette toadied, for 
they waited upon his pleasure and laughed when 
he laughed. 

“Same old place!” he commented. “Just the 
way it used to look — only they’ve got a better 
looking lot of girls. Say, fellows, pipe the 
cashier. I don’t know who she is but I’ll 
play her straight across the board. It’s worth 
coming all the way home from Europe to see 
her.” 


31 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


As the party advanced the newspaper man 
whom Jo had addressed as Mac jumped to his 
feet and greeted with great cordiality the man 
who had spoken. 

“Harold Sears! For the love of Mike!” he 
exclaimed. “Where did you blow from? 
Haven’t seen you since you left college.” 

Young Sears grasped the outstretched hand 
with a warmness that showed his pleasure at 
meeting his friend again. 

“Still working on the paper, Mac?” he said. 
“Just got back from Europe. Haven’t even 
been home to see the old man yet. Got to get 
into him for a thousand to-day.” 

They were beside the table of the elder Sears 
whose back was towards them, and the reporter 
by frowns and pantomime endeavored to warn 
the son of the father’s proximity, but it was 
too late. The latter had heard the remark and 
turned abruptly. 


32 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“You’ve got a damn fine chance to do it! 
Understand what I mean?” he rasped. 

“Why, hello, father,” said his son and heir 
not in the least perturbed as he advanced and 
seized his sire’s hand. “Just struck town. 
Ain’t you glad to see nie ?” 

“Yes — especially after what you just said 
about the thousand,” responded the magnate, 
looking him over with secret satisfaction and 
pleasure. 

“Well, do I get it?” 

“Maybe, if you go out with a piece of lead 
pipe. Your college training ought to come in 
handy. Sit down.” 

“Don’t talk like that, dad,” coaxed Harold. 
“We haven’t seen each other for a year. Let’s 
be friends. You know. I’ve never felt that you 
were very close to me.” 

“I should say not — twenty thousand a year 
isn’t close.” 


33 


THE GIRL QUESTION 

“Dad, I’d like you to meet my college chums.” 

“I’m not anxious,” said his father after shoot- 
ing in their direction a keen glance which 
sized them up. 

“But they’re all fast friends of mine.” 

“If they’re as fast as you are I don’t want 
to know them.” 

“We all graduated together.” 

“Do you mean at college or the Keeley Insti- 
tute? By the way, did you finish college?” 

“I finished it — all but about two buildings; 
that’s why I had to leave. I was the best 
fencer on the campus, I could lick any man my 
weight and was star-tackle on the championship 
football team.” 

“What did they teach you at college besides 
manslaughter?” asked his parent with a twinkle 
in his eye. 

“I’ll tell you, dad, I wasn’t there long enough 
to find out.” 

34 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“Then it’s time you got into the harness and 
began to make money, because you know money 
talks nowadays. Yes sir, money talks — that’s 
why they have a woman’s head on the silver 
dollar. Understand what I mean? What are 
your assets at present?” 

“A trunk full of medals; eight suits of 
clothes, three hat boxes and an automobile that 
can go a mile a minute.” 

“Yes — for a minute. One of those kind that 
a child can start, but it takes a stone wall to 
stop. When you get a job at a salary do you 
expect to be able to keep an automobile?” 

“Nobody keeps an automobile ; they only bor- 
row it from the repair shop once in a while. 
No, really I haven’t thought so much about 
going to work as I have about getting married.” 

“Thought you’d do that instead, eh?” 

“Yes, if I can find an attractive girl of my 
own mental calibre.” 


35 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“That settles it,” commented the old man 
grimly. “You’ll have to hunt a long time for 
a girl of your mental calibre, but if you do find 
her, don’t let her know, that’s why you picked 
her out.” 

His son grinned appreciation of this sally. 

“Stung!” he laughed. “But, seriously, dad, 
how about that thousand — what’s a thousand 
to you?” 

“That’s not the idea. A thousand’s a darned 
sight more to me than it is to you. Besides, 
I’m up to my neck in a big deal now and can’t 
take time to monkey with you.” 

“What’s the deal?” 

“I’m trying to swing enough stock into line to 
get control of the Grand Central. That’s the 
only thing I want around here that I haven’t 
got.” 

“Can’t you buy it?” 

“Yes, if I can get hold of the owners I can 
36 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


buy anything. It’s only worth three or four 
hundred thousand, but I’ve got to have it to 
swing the minority the way I want it. This 
block of Grand Central has been held by an 
English family for years — ever since the road 
started.” 

“Have you approached them?” 

“Not personally, but I’ve traced the heir to 
the stock, a young chap. Lord Hugh Murray, 
just over from England. Don’t know why he 
came to Chicago, but I’ve got to make him 
sell. I haven’t been able to find him at any of 
the hotels, but I heard he was in here at lunch 
time yesterday. That’s why I came.” 

“Didn’t know you ever ate here.” 

“Oh, once in a while, because it’s handy. 
Besides, I’m looking this property over. Might 
turn it into an office building and move my 
suite over here. Good location-right on the 
ground floor.” 


37 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“The ground floor! That’s where you usu- 
ally are.” 

While this colloquy between father and son 
was in progress Con had worked back again 
to the cashier’s desk. 

“Did you fix it up all right with Mr. Sears?” 
inquired Miss Davis a little anxiously. 

“Nothin’ to it. Bull-con is all you need in this 
biz, or any other. Take it from me, if a guy 
can put up the right kind of a front, a pair of 
deuces is as good as a full house.” 

“Who is the young man he is talking to?” 

“That’s his son Harold, a fine young chap 
who’s just got back from a trip to Europe after 
winding up at college.” 

“I think he’s rather nice looking. Why don’t 
you wear your hair like that? Your collar 
isn’t like his, either.” 

Con mentally resolved to blossom forth as a 


38 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


second edition of Harold in regard to hair dress- 
ing and collar, as he hurried forward to escort 
to the door the elder Sears who had risen to go. 

“Sorry you’re goin’, Mr. Sears,” he said. 
“How did you finish your dinner so quick?” 

“I didn’t finish it. The best I could get was 
a draw,” he snapped. 

His sire gone, Harold Sears became inter- 
ested once more in his surroundings and his 
gaze finally became fixed on Jo, who was wait- 
ing on his college friends at a nearby table and 
answering their attempted witticisms with 
sharp repartee. 

“Did you say this duck was wild?” inquired 
one of them. 

“It will be if you cut it like that,” she flashed 
back. 

“Say, little one, I’d like to call on you,” he 
went on, “may I?” 


39 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“No, I’m afraid not. Mother won’t let me 
receive callers. But you can send me some 
candy if you want to.” 

“All right — ^but when can I see you again?” 

“Come around and take dinner with us this 
evening. Five to eight is the time.” 

“Let’s see the entrees. What do you serve 
best?” 

“Men who give tips.” 

“Here, miss, I’ll have a Welsh rarebit, some 
broiled live lobster, imported ale, and a piece of 
mince pie,” said another. 

“Would you just as soon write that order out 
and sign it?” she requested, handing him a pad 
and a pencil. 

“What for?” 

“Oh, only as a sort of an alibi for the house 
to show at the coroner’s inquest,” she answered 
wearily, while the others laughed. 

Harold called her over to him. 


40 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“Are these French fried potatoes ?” he asked. 

“Sure — they can’t speak a word of English. 
Did you try talking to ’em?” 

He contemplated her for a moment in silence, 
and she turned her back upon him. She had 
been casting furtive glances at the manager, 
ever drawn by the attraction of the magnet 
behind it to the cashier’s desk. Con was lean- 
ing towards Miss Davis who was listening with 
an amused smile to what he was telling her, and 
Jo now was watching them frankly, misery 
showing unconsciously in her eyes. Harold, 
watching her, understood and waxed sympa- 
thetic. 

“Say, little girl, you’re all right,” he said 
kindly. “Do you believe in tips?” 

“I don’t yet, but I’m willing to be convinced,” 
was the rejoinder. 

There was another moment of silence and 
again her gaze wandered up the room. 


41 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“Brother Con seems to be pretty much inter- 
ested in the cashier,” remarked Harold. 

“Sure,” replied Jo. “Look at all the money 
she handles.” 

“You seem awfully interested in him. Now, 
straight goods, aren’t you?” 

“Um — er — what’s that? Sure, I’m inter- 
ested in him. Why shouldn’t I be? He’s the 
only pal I’ve got.” 

“Isn’t he anything more to you?” 

The girl’s gaze was fixed on the amorous 
Con who appeared to be in most confidential 
converse with the beautiful cashier. 

“Yeh,” she answered mechanically, but real- 
izing the import of the question as she brought 
her mind back to the customer she added : “Ex- 
cuse me. What did you say?” 

“That’s the way I thought it was,” he 
laughed. “Well, I wish you every happi- 
ness.” 


42 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“Nothing like that, Mister,” she said quickly. 
“You’ve got it sized up wrong. Elsie over 
there is the girl for him. Ain’t she a swell 
looker? He’s crazy about her and I guess they 
got it all fixed up.” 

“But how about you — don’t you care?” 

She looked at him before she answered, and 
was attracted by the kindly sympathy in his 
eyes. 

“No — not much — I guess,” she said slowly. 
“I ain’t her kind; she’s an awful swell looker. 
They ought to be awful happy.” She sighed, 
and added with effort: “Anyhow, I hope so. 
Any girl ought to be happy with him. I ain’t 
never had anything, anyway, so I guess I don’t 
mind.” 

Con, headed off by Miss Davis, who had 
noticed that attention was being attracted to 
them advanced with a broad grin towards young 
Sears. 


43 


THE GIRL QUESTION ^ 


“Don’t tip it off to him what I said,” appealed 
Jo. “Maybe I didn’t mean it all.” 

“Say, little one, what do you take me for?” 
came the injured but reassuring protest. 

“Slip it there, brother,” said Con heartily, 
holding out his hand. “When did you get 
back? Heard you was across the pond hittin’ 
all the red spots on the map.” 

“Yes, had the time of my life. How about 
yourself — had the time of yours, as usual, try- 
ing to keep everybody satisfied, I suppose?” 

“Sure, but it’s a pipe if you know how. I 
don’t want to toss any hothouse violets at my- 
self, but I guess I was built to shoot the bull 
con and I think I got this game doped about 
right. All you got to do is to kid all the Indians 
that blow in — make ’em feel at home. If they’re 
nothin’ but piker clerks, why, I jump all over 
their bosses ; then when these fat porch- 
climbers from La Salle Street blow in, I hand it 
44 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


to ’em for double-crossin’ the small stockholders 
and shoot the bunk as if I’d been doin’ nothing 
for years but puttin’ an awful crimp in the 
common people. Make every guy think he’s 
the mustard and agree with everything he says, 
no matter how phoney it is, and you got ’em 
all nailed to the mast.” 

Harold laughed. 

“What do you do if the cook ever runs out 
of anything?” he asked. 

“If he runs out of the kitchen I go out and 
coax him back.” 

“Isn’t it hard to hang on to waitresses like 
that?” inquired the young man indicating a 
queen-like blonde. 

“Try it and see. The real live wire of the 
place, though, is Elsie, the cashier. Have you 
put your lamps on her yet?” 

“She looks good to me.” 

“She’s as good as she looks, take it from me. 


45 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


Why, she can separate a guy from an iron 
louie so easy that he never feels the pain.” 

“All the waitresses look like perfect ladies, 
too.” 

“They are; they can’t even wait on the table, 
but I grabbed ’em all for their looks. Anyway 
you can get your eyes full here. And pipe the 
first class language I use on the bill-of-fare. 
Gee ! I wish some of them things tasted the way 
they look in print.” 

The manager hurried off, called for by 
another customer at the opposite side of the 
room. This brought him once more within the 
immediate power of Miss Davis, to whom' he 
went as soon as he had mollified the person who 
had summoned him. 

“That young Sears must have a soft job 
being the son of a multi-millionaire,” she ob- 
served, by way of resuming the flirtation. 


46 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“Sure,” laughed Con, “if he’s lucky he’ll start 
in waltzin’ with boxes at five a week for a 
wholesale house. Maybe he gets as high as 
bookkeeper, but that lets him out. A good 
penman gets fifteen a week; if he’s too good 
he gets fifteen years. There’s nothin’ to that 
clerk game. After you perform for twenty 
years on the high stool, the main squeeze hands 
you a parachute and shows you where to jump ; 
or if you last to the finish all you come in for 
is a floral anchor from the boys at the office.” 

“I’m thinking of going on the stage,” she 
avowed coyly. “Did you know it?” 

Con, startled at this announcement, reflected. 

“The show business always makes an awful 
hit with girls, and maybe they’re right because 
when it comes to winnin’ a home, a two weeks’ 
course in make-up has got a cookin’ school 
diploma backed off the map,” he said. “But 
you dtn’t need nothin’ like that.” 


47 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


^‘Maybe it’s because I hear so many fellows 
here talking about girls on the stage.” 

“You mean those seminary striplings that 
blow in here?” he said contemptuously. “Say, 
take it from me, any time you hear one of those 
squabs tipping it off in a loud voice that he’s 
a ten-strike with the merry-merrys it’s a hun- 
dred to one he never got nearer to a chorus girl 
than the other end of the field glasses.” 

He straightened up as an elaborately and 
garishly dressed woman entered with a man 
whose eyeglass, long drooping moustache, 
checkerboard suit and spats labeled him as an 
Englishman. 

“Pipe, lady,” said Con in an undertone to 
the cashier, “here’s Mrs. Jessie Sears, Mr. Sears’ 
new wife, who used to be his steno. The old 
guy got dotty about her and finally waltzed 
her down the long chute with the parson at 
the other end. That was only a few months 
48 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


ago, but say, if you led her up to a typewriter 
now, she’d shy and go right over the fence 
without touching her hands. Honest, you 
wouldn’t think to look at her that only a year 
ago she was one of those ‘Dear sir’ ladies waltz- 
in’ with the lettered keys. She can’t get it out 
of her system, though. Every time she hears 
a bell she does this — ” 

And Con went through the motion of push- 
ing a typewriter carriage back to the end of 
the line. 

“I know all about her,” Elsie told him. "They 
say she’s crazy to get into society, but caij’t do 
it/^ 

"You’re right. If she could make as much 
of a hit with the Potter Palmers and the McCor- 
micks as she used to with the Smith-Premiers 
and the Remingtons, she wouldn’t do nothin’ 
but pass herself large clusters of begonias all 
day long.” 


49 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


/ 


y 


“But who’s that with her? He was in here 
yesterday and everybody was staring at him.” 

“From the way his clothes fit him he’s a 
rhinoceros. Somebody said he was a lord — 
Lord Hugh Murray. I’ll go and find out what 
menagerie he escaped from.” 


50 


1 



“a waitress! most extraordinary, upon my word." 

raqe 51 . 



CHAPTER IV 


Mrs. Jessie Sears swept over to Jo 
Sargent’s tables and selected one adjacent to 
that occupied by Harold Sears, who did not 
notice them for the reason that they were 
seated behind him.- Lord Murray, having ad- 
justed his companion’s chair with much cere- 
mony, contemplated Jo through his monocle 
with evident approval. 

“Most extraordinary young woman,” he ex- 
claimed reaching for the astonished Jo’s hand 
and shaking it vigorously. “Glad to know you, 
by Jove. What might you be?” 

“I might be the Statue of Liberty, but I ain’t. 
I’m a waitress,” replied the girl curtly. 

“A waitress! Most extraordinary, upon my 
word. Allow me to congratulate you,” and he 
51 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


shook hands again with her warmly. ^‘Might 
I ask if you serve onions here?” 

“Sure — sit down.” 

She drew a chair back for him and presented 
a pad. 

“Write your order, please.” 

While he was complying with the request 
Mrs. Sears addressed her escort gushingly, 
uttering his title in a high voice for the benefit 
of the interested diners. 

“Oh, Lord Murray,” she said, “I started to 
tell you about the terrible accident I saw over 
on State Street. I was standing in front of 
one of Marshall Field’s store windows, looking 
at some French organdies — they had one there 
just like Mrs. Van Ogden Nordyke wore to the 
Smythe-Fish wedding — it was a terribly swell 
affair. Genevieve Smythe is the girl who was 
engaged to the Baron Hochstadt last season 
when it was discovered he wasn’t a real Baron 
52 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


at all and they had the worst time Oh, yes 

what was it I started to tell you about?” 

“Most extraordinary!” exclaimed Lord Mur- 
ray, bewildered by her volubility. 

Con arrived with his property smile of gen- 
iality and rubbing his hands after the most 
approved manner of bonifaces as he had seen 
them represented on the stage. 

“Everything all right?” he inquired. 

“Ripping, I assure you, old top,” answered 
the lord, rising and shaking hands. “Glad to 
know you, I’m sure.” 

“Same here,” Con assured him. “Welcome 
to the village. What are you going to do — flirt 
with a mess of pork and — , or wrestle a sirloin 
for the best two out of three?” 

“Most extraordinary!” commented Lord 
Murray, who did not understand. 

“He wants to know what we are going to 
eat,” explained Mrs. Sears. 


53 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“Ha, ha! Extraordinary! I have given our 
order to the serving woman.” 

“Have you been here long?” questioned Con. 

“No, old chap, just arrived. I was out to the 
stockyards this morning. Most extraordinary! 
I heard one of those American jokes there. I 
think it is jolly. Would you like to hear it?” 

“Sure ! I ain’t had a good laugh since I seen 
you come in the door.” 

“The question is, ‘Why is the Fourth of 
July?’ You should say, ‘I don’t know.’ ” 

“All right, I pass. Why is the Fourth of 
July?” 

“ ‘ J’ is the first, ‘U’ is the second, ‘L’ is the 
third and ‘Y’ is the Fourth of July.” 

No one laughed or appeared to understand, 
and the Englishman, surprised, repeated it. 

“ ‘J’ is the first, ‘U’ is the second, ‘L’ Ts the 
third and ‘Y’ is the Fourth of July.” 


54 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“What’s the answer?” demanded Con with 
an air of great interest. 

“ ‘Y’ is the Fourth of July. Doesn’t it make 
you laugh?” 

“It does the way you tell it. Say, I heard a 
kind of a funny crack myself to-day. There 
were two Irishmen talking. One of them said, 
T hear that Casey died without the aid of a 
doctor.’ The other guy thought a minute, then 
he said, ‘Casey always was handy at any- 
thing.’ ” 

“Ah! ah!” laughed his lordship, while the 
others preserved solemn countenances. “Capi- 
tal, by Jove! Most extraordinary! Do you 
know, America is quite different from what I 
expected. Fancy, I thought this place was full 
of Indians.” 

“It is, after twelve o’clock.” 

“Deally? My word!” 

“Sure — most everybody you see here has 
got Indian blood in his veins.” 

55 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“Have you?” 

“Yes — my mother was an Injun.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeh — and my old man was an engineer. By 
the by,” added Con, addressing Mrs. Sears, “I 
ain’t seen you here since you used to punch the 
keys.” 

“Sir ! ! !” she exclaimed indignantly, shooting 
a withering glance at him. 

“That’s all right, sister,” said the manager 
hastily. “I didn’t mean nothin’.” Then, seek- 
ing to cause a diversion, he went on : “Did you 
know your son was sitting right back of you? 
I mean your husband’s son.” 

Lord Murray adjusted his eyeglass to look 
at Harold. 

“Your son!” he commented. “Most extraor- 
dinary I I don’t see how you can have such an 
old son.” 


\ 


56 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“She married an old son-of-a-gun,” whispered 
Con, confidentially. 

“Anyone would know he was your son, 
he’s the dead image of you,” said his lordship, 
addressing Mrs. Sears. 

“Dead image? You should see him when he 
turns up after a night at the poison counter,” 
put in the manager. 

Mrs. Sears, dumbfounded and visibly per- 
turbed, had been gazing at Harold. She quickly 
recovered her sang-froid however. 

“He’s not really mine,” she explained. “He’s 
the son of my husband by a former marriage. 
I don’t think he knows yet that I married his 
father. Excuse me while I speak to him.” 

She went over to Harold’s table and sat down 
in front of him. He jumped to his feet and a 
smile of pleasure overspread his countenance 
as he held out his hand in cordial greeting. 

^‘Why, Jessie,” he exclaimed, “how are you? 

57 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


Pretty as ever, I see. I’d kiss you if the cashier 
wasn’t looking.” 

“No, you wouldn’t !” 

“Sit down and help me out with this steak.” 

“I can’t, but I’ll ’phone for the police. I’m 
with a friend.” 

“That so! Still the biggest coquette that 
ever wrote ‘yours truly !’ ” 

“You look as if you had a headache.” 

“Yes, I couldn’t sleep all night.” 

“Why not?” 

“I didn’t get in early enough. Honest, my 
block feels as if it was full of knot-holes and 
aches like a tooth. Last night I had a fine 
collection of rare birds and animals that ought 
to be traveling with Hagenbeck’s show.” 

“And to-day, I suppose, you’ve got a stylish 
Alice Blue taste in your mouth. Remember, 
early to bed and early to rise, makes a man 
healthy, wealthy and wise.” 


58 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“If I always went to bed early I wouldn’t be 
wise to lots of things.” 

There was a pause in the conversation and 
Mrs. Sears waxed reflective. 

“Let’s see,” she said, “you’re through college 
now, aren’t you ? Did you get much out of your 
college work?” 

“I got out all of it that I could. Are you 
still with my old man?” 

She gazed at him with a peculiar look as she 
answered : 

“Yes, why?” 

“I was wondering if you couldn’t help me get 
a couple of thousand out of' him some way.” 

“You wouldn’t swindle your father?” 

“Sure! It’s a wise son that does his own 
father. Honest, Jessie, if I had two thousand 
dollars I’d be tempted to marry you. I’ve 
thought of you often since I’ve been away. You 
know we were awfully good chums. We could 
59 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


be happy together. We could go to some other 
country. Of course, if we did that the old man 
would fire you.” 

“It would be worse than that!” laughed the 
wom.an. 

“Jessie, old girl,” he entreated, “say the 
word.” 

Before she could reply. Lord Murray ad- 
vanced to the table diffidently. 

“I say, Mrs. Sears,” he said. “You — ” 

“Who’s he talking to?” interrupted Harold, 
surprised at this designation of the former 
typewriter, and annoyed by the stranger’s un- 
timely advent. 

“Oh, it’s me,” she said sweetly, “I married 
your father last month.” 

“You married dad!” 

Harold half rose from his chair in his amaze- 
ment. 


60 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“Then you’re my mother?” he gasped. 
“Great Scott!” 

“Harold,” said the woman calmly, intro- 
ducing the stranger, “this is Lord Murray. 
Lord Murray, my stepson, Mr. Harold Sears.” 

“Most extraordinary! Glad to know you, old 
chap,” and Lord Murray grasped his hand and 
pumped it energetically. 

“Yes,” said Harold, still dazed, “I’m glad to 
know myself. I don’t know my own mother!” 

Mrs. Sears, in her anxiety to relieve the 
strain of the situation, began to pour forth a 
flood of words in which, as usual, she ended by 
losing herself. 

“Your father has an auto, now,” she confided 
to Harold. “It’s a French machine. I do love 
anything French, don’t you? My latest gown 
is a Paris model, Madame O’Brien made it. 
You’ve heard of Madame O’Brien? She lives 
on that street where we saw the little poodle dog 
61 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


yesterday. Tm going to have one of those dogs. 
They just match my new furs. It was the fun- 
niest thing how I happened to pick out those 
furs. I was walking along State Street when 
who should come along but Mrs. Moran, you 
know the one that was riding in her machine 
when that awful accident occurred on Madison 
street. I must tell you about that accident. 
Oh, yes — what was it I started to say?” 

“Fve just heard a ripping conundrum about 
America — jolly country America,” interjected 
the Englishman. 

“That so? What is it?” 

“The question is, ‘Why is the Fourth of July?’ 
You should answer, ‘I don’t know.’ ” 

“I don’t know.” 

“The answer is ripping. I laugh to think of 
it.” 

“Why is the Fourth of July?” 

“ ‘J’ is the first, ‘U’ is the second, ‘L’ is the 


62 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


third and ‘Y’ is the Fourth of July. The first 
time I heard that I laughed till I cried, really I 
did. Your American jokes are so jolly.” 

“Yes, aren’t they?” responded Harold dubi- 
ously. “Well, I must ask you to excuse me, sir, 
and — er — mother, I have to be going.” 

He rose and they took leave of him and re- 
turned to their table while Harold asked Jo 
for his check. 

“Your cashier friend there seems to be about 
the biggest attraction in this place,” he re- 
marked to the girl. “I’ve been watching her 
manoeuvres with those carnations. She’s fooled 
about every customer who has gone out. Look 
at that fellow now. She’ll have the time of her 
life getting me to stop to talk to her, though.” 

On his way towards the desk he was held for 
a moment by Con, who passed a few remarks 
with him that caused the young man to laugh. 

Meanwhile, Jo, in a spirit of mischief, had 
G3 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


slipped over to the desk and repeated his boast 
to Miss Davis. 

“Oh, he said that, did he?” commented the 
girl grimly. “Well, I’ll have to teach him. I 
think I’d like to talk to him, anyway.” 

Harold, with a brisk air, handed over a bill 
with his check. 

“Do you want the change in bills or silver?” 
she inquired. 

“Bills, please,” he said brusquely. 

“Silver’s handier for tips.” 

“That’s why I want bills. And please hurry, 
I’ve got to catch a train. Is that clock right?” 

“Just wait a moment. I’ll see.” 

She drew forth a closed case watch and 
fumbled with it. 

“Would you mind opening it for me?” she 
requested, looking up suddenly and gazing full 
into his eyes. “It sticks.” 

Confused by the large violet orbs to which 
64 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


a conjured soulfulness had imparted further 
fascination, he took the timepiece, and she bent 
over to watch him — bent so far that her hair 
touched his cheek. In brushing back her hair 
her hand touched his. 

“Oh, pardon me. Can’t you open it?” she 
murmured. 

“I — I — think I’ve broken it,” he stammered. 
“Or else it was broken before — was it?” 

“Not that I know of — ” 

“Then of course I’ll be responsible for it.” 

“Oh, it isn’t that, only it’s a present.” 

“That’s the kind of watch people always give 
as presents.” 

“This was given to me by someone who is 
very dear to me,” she said with some haughti- 
ness, turning away. 

“Forgive me, I didn’t really mean that,” he 
said contritely. “Honestly, I think it’s very 
pretty.” 


65 


THE GIRL QUESTION. 


He started to gather up his change, but while 
she confused him with her eyes again she slyly 
pushed some of the money off the desk. 

“There!” she exclaimed. “You’ve knocked 
three dollars on to the floor.” 

Apologetically he went down on his knees to 
hunt for the coins. When he rose he was very 
red in the face. 

“I hope I got them all,” he said, “because I 
have to hurry to catch that train. Oh, but I 
forgot about breaking your watch. Please let 
me take it and have it fixed. Here, I’ll leave 
you mine.” 

In passing it over to her his hand touched 
hers. Neither his grasp nor hers was very 
secure and the contact lasted fully a minute 
before the timepiece was safe in her possession. 

“Say,” said Harold, gazing at her admiringly 
and forgetting all about the fable of the train, 
“would you mind telling me what time you get 
off?” 

66 


THE GIRL QUESTION. 


“All the time I can.” 

“No, really, it’s a shame for you to work the 
way you do,” he declared. 

“It’s a shame for anybody to work the way 
I do.” 

“How many people do you accommodate 
here?” 

“We never accommodate anybody.” 

“Seriously, now ; when can I see you again ?” 

“Do come over to dinner sometimes. We’ll 
be so glad to see you.” 

“We? Who’s we?” 

“Why, the management and I. Wait just one 
moment.” 

She kept him waiting while she selected a 
carnation from the bunch in the vase, then 
changed her mind, took a white one she was 
wearing herself and fastened it over his heart. 
Three or four other men waiting impatiently 
to pay their checks began to murmur and pass 
67 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


uncomplimentary witticisms. Harold, wearing 
the badge proclaiming his subjection and the 
beautiful cashier’s triumph glared at them and 
walked away rapidly, going in his confusion in 
the direction opposed to the exit, until he was 
brought up by Jo, who confronted him with 
mocking gaze and a grin of amusement. 

You’re off your trolley, mister. That’s the 
place to get out, over there,” she said. 

“Damn !” he ejaculated, and, red and perspir- 
ing, hurried out without daring to glance in the 
direction of the cashier’s desk. 


68 


CHAPTER V 


In response to signs from Lord Murray, Con, 
who had just returned from interviewing the 
cook, went over to him. 

“I came within an inch of killing a coon in 
that kitchen,” he remarked. 

“Really?” said his lordship. “Why didn’t 
you?” 

“You ain’t allowed to kill coons in this coun- 
try any more.” 

“During what months?” 

“Well, the close season is generally in the 
summer.” 

“Ah, ah! I see — a joke. Did I tell you that 
ripping story I heard about why is the Fourth 
of July?” 

“Whoa!” protested Con. “Back up there. 
Pack that funny story of yours in the moth balls 
69 




THE GIRL QUESTION 


and we’ll still be friends. For an Englishman 
you ain’t so bad.” 

“Well, rather. You know the sun never sets 
on the English.” 

“No, it wouldn’t do any good.” 

“Our motto is, ‘England forever.’ ” 

“And ours is, ‘America for everything else.’ ” 

“In my country I am an M. P.” 

“Shake, I’m a K. P. myself — life member.” 

His lordship became serious and assumed a 
business-like air. 

“I wanted to tell you,” he said, “that I came 
to this restaurant for two reasons — ” 

“Pardon me,” interrupted Mrs. Sears, “I 
understood you to say you had business to 
transact here. I have some shopping to do. 
Would you mind escorting me to the auto- 
mobile?” 

“Not at all! Not at all!” the Englishman 
assured her. “Pray allow me.” 


70 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


He saw her comfortably ensconced in the 
waiting motor car and returned to the table. 

“As I observed,” he resumed, addressing Con, 
“I came here for two reasons. The first is I 
wished to meet, a young lady I saw 
last evening in one of your music halls. She 
was one of the dancers. I think she was quite 
taken with me, don’t you know. Wrote me a 
note saying she would meet me here to-day. 
She is to wear a red rose like this one in my 
buttonhole. A stunning creature, really.” 

“Yeh, I know the kind. They look great at 
night, especially if you’ve got a little biograph 
water under your belt. Honest, if those crows 
looked the same off the stage as they do on, 
Klaw and Erlanger would have to put on melo- 
dramas. As it is, they do pretty well at the 
marriage game. They may not be there with 
all the grammar in the book, but if you’ve got a 
shape that makes your clothes look as if they 
71 


THE GIRL QUESTION 

were glued on, you don’t need a college edu- 
cation.” 

“This one looked quite young, don’t you 
know — not over seventeen.” 

“The old ladies’ home is full of them dames 
that was workin’ on the end in last season’s 
summer shows. It ain’t fair to a chorus girl to 
look at her in the daylight. Any guy that mar- 
ries one of ’em is takin’ chances if he don’t have 
his flat fitted up with footlights and an 
orchestra.” 

“Do you think a chap who is getting 20,000 
a year ought to be married?” 

“Be married ? He ought to be arrested !” 

“Well, this young lady is coming here very 
shortly — she should be here now. There is one 
other reason I came here. I am trying to trace 
a person of the name of Sargent in this country. 
I understand there is a waitress of that name 
working here. From what I’ve been able to 
72 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


learn about her father I think she's the one I'm 
looking for. Can I speak with her?” 

“Sure, but I never heard her talk about her 
father. She'll be in in a minute and I'll tip you 
off to her. She's one of the best crockery jug- 
glers in the whole place. She may be a little 
bit phoney on her spellin', but her heart is in 
the right place, and I'd rather have her for a 
pal than any man I know. Me and her was 
brought up together, so I'm wise to what kind of 
a dame she is. She's on the square, take it from 
me. An’ say, while you’re lookin' the shop over 
don’t forget little Elsie — the lady that separates 
the sword-swallowers from their hard-earned 
louies.” 

“Does what?” 

“Makes the change from the cage — plays 
solitaire with the cash register.” 

“Oh, the cashier!” 


73 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“How did you guess it? She’s the principal 
sponge cake around here. Honest, the way 
she’s got ’em all back in the corner hangin’ 
onto the ropes is a shame. If she’d only say the 
word there’s a lot of married guys around here 
would begin slippin’ Paris green into the break- 
fast food at home. When she turns her lamps 
on one of these boys that’s sellin’ mining shares 
because he’s a little too old to be handy with 
the lead pipe, he’s as good as roped and thrown 
with the sponge under his nose.” 

“You’ve taken rather a fancy to the young 
lady in question yourself, have you not?” 

“If I dared. I’d up and ask her to waltz over 
to the gospel sharp’s to-morrow. But I ain’t 
in hrr class. I’m all right when it comes to 
kidd'n’ with a dame about shows and baseball, 
but on this love talk thing I’m as light and 
graceful as a pile driver.” 

“I have an idea, old top. Why not write her 


74 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


a letter saying that you offer her your hand, and 
all that sort of thing, you know?” 

“Would that be the proper stunt?” 

“Well, I should say so — rather. That’s the 
way it’s always done in England. You could 
ask her to answer by some token — a flower or 
something. Rather a pretty piece of sentiment, 

I think. A deuced good idea. For instance, tell 
her to leave a white carnation on the desk if 
she accepts you and a red one if she refuses 
you.” 

“It ain’t so bad at that. Maybe I’ll try it. 

Here’s the shirtwaist you’re lookin’ for,” he 
/ 

added as the waitress reappeared. “Jo, come 
here. Here’s a gent wants to spiel with you. 

I 

This is Josephine Sargent.” 

The girl looked at Lord Murray inquiringly, . 
wondering that Con should have referred to 
her by her name. 

“Indeed! So you are Josephine Sargent? 


75 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


Well, well! Won’t you take a chair?” said his 
lordship kindly, rising. 

“Where to, sir?” she inquired, immediately on 
the defensive and bringing her impudent re- 
partee into play for the purpose of parrying. 

“I mean, won’t you be seated so we can chat, 
don’t you know, because I can’t sit down while 
a lady is standing.” 

“Are you going to stay over here?” 

“My word! Of course not! It’s too busy. 
The noise and all that sort of thing would dis- 
turb my peace of mind.” 

“Have you only a piece? Say, I didn’t mean 
that. What do you think of the country, any- 
way? Have you seen the Adirondacks ?” 

“The Adirondacks ? Is one of them dark and 
rather tall?” 

“Yes — about five thousand feet above the 
sea level. But say, mister, put me wise. What’s 
your game, anyhow,” she demanded suspiciously 
76 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


as she sat down on the edge of the chair and 
regarded him sharply. 

“Well, I play polo a great deal.” 

“I ain’t on, but I guess you muffed what I 
said. What I mean is, put me next to what 
you want.” 

“My dear young lady, it’s you I want, not 
something next to you.” 

“Nothing like that,” retorted the girl deci- 
sively, rising to her feet. 

For the first time the good natured English- 
man manifested slight impatience. 

“Sit down,” he commanded. “I’m here to 
talk serious business with you. Wasn’t your 
father Charles Maurice Sargent, from Dor- 
chester, England?” 

“Yes,” replied Jo, reassured by his change of 
tone and manner and resuming her seat. 

“I came over here to bring you some most 
extraordinary news — all the way from England 
77 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


to find you,” he went on. “Do you know you 
have fourteen relatives in England whom you 
have never seen?” 

“A fortune-teller told me once I was born 
lucky.” 

“Yes — it’s great luck to have fourteen rela- 
tions.” 

“Yes — that you’ve never seen. But how do 
you know all this about me?” 

“I’ll get to that. What was the exact date 
when your father died?” 

“Let’s see — if he had lived one month longer 
he would have been dead five years.” 

“Most extraordinary!” 

“Yes, isn’t it?” 

“Do you know anything about your ances- 
tors?” 

“I remember hearing I was related to Lord 
Somebody on my father’s side.” 

“Who was on your mother’s side?” 


78 


THE GIRL QUESTION 

“She didn’t need anybody on her side. She 
used a rolling pin.” 

“Did your father leave you anything?” 

“He left me an orphan.” 

Lord Murray gazed at her indulgently, a 
smile playing around his mouth. 

“You Yankees are most extraordinary at 
spoofing,” he said. 

“Yeh — something like that,” assented the 
girl. 

“As I remember,” he continued, “your father 
went rather from bad to worse after he came 
over here, and the last we heard was that he 
had died in a public hospital as a result of 
drunkenness. Poor girl. Then you never knew 
what it was to have a head in your family?” 

“Sure, father always had one; that’s what 
finished him.” 

“Were did you see him last?” 

“The only place I ever saw him last any 


79 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


length of time was Murphy’s saloon. He used 
to last till about four o’clock.” 

“Did he leave a will?” 

“If he did, that’s all he left.” 

“Did your father ever tell you anything about 
his family in England? Did he ever tell you 
what you were?” 

“Yes — every night.” 

“What was it?” 

“I’m too polite to tell.” 

“Didn’t you ever try to trace your relatives 
in England?” 

“No — it was hard enough to trace my father 
in Chicago. Say, mister, I don’t want you to 
think I ain’t got any heart. I know it sounds 
kind of funny to talk about the old man like 
this, but if you’d been through what I have 
maybe you’d be kind of sore on the world. Any- 
way, if your old gent had been like mine, you 
wouldn’t be erecting no Washington monuments 
80 


V 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


over him unless you wanted to be sure and keep 
him down. All he used to do was to see how 
much he could carry without falling down, and 
the only baby tricks he taught me was to hike 
over to Murphy’s for ten cents worth in the 
water pitcher. Do you think it easy to remem- 
ber nice things about a man like that and weep 
because he’s cashed in? I’ve had to fight for 
everything I ever got, an’ maybe I’m kind of 
phoney and lippy and have got lots of brass, but 
if I’d followed his training, I’d be a lot worse. 
The last thing I remember about the old gent 
was when I had to send him fifty to get him out 
on bail — a week later he sent me two dollars of 
my own coin as a Christmas present. Can you 
tie that?” 

“Can’t say I blame you, on my word,” said 
his lordship sympathetically. “But your hard 
luck days are over. That’s what I came to 
tell you. You are the direct heiress to about 
81 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


one hundred and thirty thousand pounds, part 
of the fortune of the late Lord Robert Sargent, 
your father’s father. Allow me to be the first 
to congratulate you.” 

He rose and shook hands with her with his 
accustomed heartiness. 

“A hundred and thirty thousand pounds of 
what?” questioned the girl coolly. 

“Why, pounds sterling — English money — of 
course.” 

“Is it any good over here?” 

“Most certainly.” 

“One hundred and thirty thousand pounds! 
How much is that in samoleons — I mean iron 
dollars?” 

“About five hundred thousand dollars.” 

“Gee! add that onto my seven a week and it 
would be pretty good, wouldn’t it? Say, are 
you sure all this coin is mine?” 

“Positively. Your father’s brother married 


82 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


Lady Castlewood, but they had no children. 
My lawyers were looking for your father three 
years without finding him.” 

“They couldn’t have looked in Murphy’s.” 

“Strange I should find you in a place like 
this.” 

“I don’t know — this ain’t a very large place. 
Say, did you come over just to find me and tell 
me about this?” 

“Yes. I’m your second cousin. In case I 
didn’t find you the money would have gone 
to me.” 

Astonished, incredulous, she gazed at him for 
the first time squarely. Trained as a child to 
shift for herself, among people who excelled 
in getting the best of others and preying upon 
each other’s weaknesses, having learned by ex- 
perience as a young girl to be wary of honeyed 
traps set for her, of Greeks bearing gifts, and 
of accepting words at their face value, she 
83 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


could not believe that such probity and mag- 
nanimity existed. But absolute honesty shone 
in the kindly eyes that met her scrutiny as he 
waited for her to speak. Lord Murray seemed 
by nature incapable of fooling anybody. His 
pleasure at her amazement and at being the 
herald of the wonderful tidings was apparent. 
Slowly the suspicious look died out, and her eyes 
moistened as she in turn held out her hand to 
this relative who had dropped as it were from 
the skies. 

“I want to shake hands with you,” she said 
gently. “It was a mighty white thing for you 
to hunt me up this way, when you might have 
had the coin. I can hardly believe it.” 

“Not at all,” he replied, “I’d do anything to 
oblige a lady, don’t you know. The money, as 
you will see, is mostly in the form of a block 
of stock in the Grand Central Railroad. The 


84 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


stock has been in our family for years — ever 
since the road was organized. It will require 
some time to settle the details of transferring 
the property, but then you will be able to go 
back to England and take your rightful place 
as a titled lady of our family.” 

She regarded him quizzically. 

“You’re afraid I might do it, aren’t you? she 
said. “No, nothing like that for mine. I wasn’t 
brought up to be a titled lady, so what’s the 
use?” 

For a moment she remained thoughtful, then 
added, as though talking to herself : 

“There’s only one thing I want very much, 
but you can’t give it to me. Nobody ih Eng- 
land can — ” 

“You mean you love someone — here?” he 
queried, at a venture. 

“Yes, but he ain’t for me, so what’s the use?” 


85 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


she sighed. “I never could have anything I 
wanted when I was a kid, and I guess I can’t 
now.” 

Con at this juncture interrupted them, and 
Jo promptly resumed her role of waitress. 

“Say, mister, here comes two of the fairies 
from the show shop,” announced the manager. 
“Which one has got the date with you?” 

His lordship looked up and saw at the en- 
trance two flashily dressed women. 

“ ’Pon my word, old chap, I can’t say,” he 
declared, adjusting his monocle. “What an 
extraordinary coincidence — both are wearing 
red roses.” 

Con went up to the women and greeted them 
effusively. 

“Welcome, little stranger Tessie, and you, 
Sybil,” he said, but at once backed away brush- 
ing face powder off his coat. 

“Say,” he remarked, “you girls wouldn’t need 


86 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


any card to prove that you’re union kalso- 
miners. The plaster is falling off the lathes.” 

“Don’t get flossy with a lady jest because 
she works,” retorted Tessie. “You have to put 
a little on to keep from gettin’ tanned.” 

“That’s all right, sister,” he assured her. 
“Come on over and meet a tapioca that says 
he’s dotty about you — him over there, the guy 
with his clothes cut out of a horse-blanket by 
a one-armed man with the St. Vitus dance.” 

The women swept over to the table with him 
and he presented them. 

“Lord Murray, this is Tessie. Tess, this is 
Lord Murray. Ditto Sybil,” he added indicat- 
ing her to his lordship with a wave of his hand. 
“Sybil is a little pale under her ears now where 
she can’t see herself in the glass, but she’s all 
right. Sit down and get acquainted. What’ll 
it be?” 


I 


87 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“I never can eat anything this early in the 
morning,” yawned Sybil. 

“In the morning!” exclaimed Lord Murray. 
“This is afternoon.” 

“It’s always morning to these people until 
the overture rings in at 8:15,” explained Con. 

“I couldn’t eat a thing, either,” declared Tes- 
sie. “Let’s have a couple of quarts. Some of 
that ’84 label — you know. Con.” 

“Sure I know. I’ll tell the poison clerk it’s 
for you,” he said, as he hurried off. 

“Tell me, how did you come to go on the 
stage?” inquired Lord Murray with interest. 

“Well a fortune-teller once told me I was 
going to be an actress,” avowed Tessie. 

“It’s strange those fortune-tellers never make 
any better guesses than they do,” commented 
Sybil. 

Tessie regarded her disdainfully. 

“Never you mind. The manager told me 


88 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


last night that anybody that can act the way I 
can oughtn’t to be in the chorus,” she said. 

“No, they ought to be in the penitentiary,” 
put in Con, who had returned with the bottles. 

Lord Murray picked up the bottles and ex- 
amined them. 

“We ordered wine of the vintage of 1884, and 
this bottle has 1907 on it,” he said. 

“Is that so?” answered Con. “I’ll have that 
fixed at once. Here, Jo, take this bottle out 
and tell the booze clerk to take twenty-three 
years off this label. Put on an 1884.” 

He followed her, and the Englishman re- 
sumed his conversation with the girls. 

“Really, girls, I was just dying to see you 
off the stage” he told them. 

“The whole audience would like to see us off 
the stage,” said Sybil. 

“Tell me, are there any more at home like 
you?” 

89 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“Say,” answered Tessie, “if they was like us 
they wouldn’t be at home.” 

“It must take a lot of nerve to wear tights 
the way you do.” 

“It takes a lot of nerve for some people to 
wear tights the way they do,” answered Sybil, 
looking hard at Tessie. 

Tessie flared up indignantly. 

“Do you mean me?” she demanded. “I 
wouldn’t talk if I were you. Anybody that 
knows how you bleach your hair — Besides, 
I’ve played parts, and that’s more than you 
can say. I used to play Jack, in ‘Jack and the 
Beanstalk.’ ” 

“Now she plays the beanstalk,” remarked 
Con as he arrived with the fresh bottles. 
“Don’t mind what she says. The peroxide has 
filtered through into the grey matter.” 

Lord Murray was anxious to turn the con- 


90 



“l wouldn’t talk if I WERE YOU. ANYBODY KNOWS YOU BLEACH 

YOUR HAIR.” 


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THE GIRL QUESTION 


versation from the quarrelsome turn it had 
taken. 

“I say, girls,” he said genially, “I want to tell 
you a ripping story. It starts like this: ‘Why 
is the Fourth of July?’ ” 

“Wait a minute,” interrupted Con hastily. 
“I’ll set up another quart of foolish water if 
you’ll agree not to tell that while I’m around.” 

Tessie, having imbibed four glasses of cham- 
pagne, suddenly became very circumspect. 

“What do you suppose would happen if any- 
one should come in here and see us drinking 
wine with a strange man?” she wanted to 
know. 

“I can’t imagine,” declared Sybil, “we would 
both be terribly compromised.” 

“Really?” ^xclaimed Lord Murray. “Upon 
my word ! I didn’t know that your American 
customs were so strict as that.” 

“There goes our stage manager now,” she 


91 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


said, pointing to the window and shrinking 
back, “I know he’ll fire us.” 

“Deuce take, I’m sorry,” said the Englishman 
with concern. “Can’t anything be done?” 

“I can’t think of anything unless you were 
engaged to one of us,” suggested Tessie with 
ingenuous candor as she tried to throw a 
dreamy expression into her eyes. 

“Oh, is that all?” said Lord Murray. “Why 
bless my soul. I’ll be engaged to both of you — 
really.” He rose and shook hands with 
them. “That settles that matter. I’ll be round 
to see you next week. It’s customary to see 
one’s fiancee that often in this country, is it 
not? Will you send your names and addresses 
to my secretary? Thanks, awfully. Shall we 
go for a drive?” 

There was nothing the girls could think of that 
would suit them so well as a drive at that par^ 


92 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


ticular hour, when all the chorus girls and 
chorus men would be fringing the curbs of the 
theatre district, so the party went out as soon 
as an automobile which Lord Murray had Con 
telephone for, arrived at the restaurant door. 

f 


93 


CHAPTER VI 


Jo, putting her tables in order, was thinking 
of the luck that had come to her by this strange 
turn of the wheel of fortune. 

“Five hundred thousand! she muttered. 
“Gee ! that’s an awful bundle of money. I guess 
we could fix up this restaurant pretty swell with 
that — him and me. Aw, what’s the use? I 
ain’t one, two, seven with Elsie, anyway. She’s 
a swell looker. They’ll look great together. I 
don’t care, I never had anything I wanted, 
anyhow.” 

Mr. T. P. Q. Sears came in with a companion, 
evidently an architect, for he said to him 
loudly : 

“Now I want to take out all those partitions 
in there and make it look more like an office — 
94 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


no, your first plans won’t do. Nothing like it 
at all. Go in there and measure up those 
rooms. Understand what I mean?” 

The great man looked around, recognized Jo, 
and sat down at her table. 

“Going to fix the place up?” she inquired. 
“You own this property, don’t you?” 

“No, but maybe I will in a few day^,” he 
replied. “No, I don’t want to eat any more here 
to-day. I’m just waiting. Got to thinking 
about you this afternoon. I kind of like the 
way you talk. If you ever want a job, 
come to my office. How much are you making 
here ?’ 

“Seven a week for myself and a hundred for 
the management.” 

“I’ll give you a job as stenographer. I need 
one now. A stenographer is very valuable. 
In a man’s confidence his stenographer should 
be next to his wife.” 


95 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“But his wife should never be next to his 
stenographer. What became of your last 
stenographer?” 

“I married her.” 

“Because she knew her business?” 

“No, because she knew mine. Yes, sir, when 
she was a stenographer my wife took all the 
prizes for doing more words a minute than any 
other stenographer in Chicago. She is still 
taking prizes.” 

“Is it by such methods as that that you have 
succeeded in business, Mr. Sears ?” 

The man looked at her, in doubt for a mo- 
ment whether he ought to laugh or be angry. 

“Oh, well!” he exclaimed. “Let it go. I 
don’t mind telling you my methods, girl. I 
rather like you, and the advice might be useful. 
It’s pretty simple and it makes good to my mind 
even if it isn’t taught in the Y. M. C. A. Take 
everything you can get even if you have to steal 
96 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


it, because everybody else is trying to do the 
same thing. Understand what I mean? Every- 
body worships the man that’s got it in govern- 
ment bonds, so if I’ve got more bonds than 
most men I’m a better man than they are, be- 
cause we’re all after the same thing. Don’t 
care how you get it — ^just take it. Keep away 
from the Grand Jury and give stained glass 
windows to your church, and you’re a great 
man.” 

“I’ve never got anything I didn’t have to 
fight for. Maybe we’ve both been up against 
it and learned that way,” said the girl. 

“That’s the only line to follow if you want 
to make good,” he assured her rising as the 
architect reappeared. “Remember it, because 
it may come in handy some time. If you have a 
chance to get what you want without getting 
caught at it, why take it.” 

“If you have a chance to get what you want. 


97 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


take it,” she muttered, gazing after him. “To 
get what I want! I guess that don’t apply to 
love — getting the man you want.” 

Con, as though divining that she was think- 
ing of him, came over to her. During Sears’ 
visit he had been upstairs and therefore knew 
nothing of what had been going on. Jo did not 
judge it necessary to enlighten him. 

“Did I tell you the boss was going to give me 
an interest in the business?” he observed 
casually. 

“No,” she answered. 

“Well, it’s on the level. I get twenty-five per 
cent, of the profits after New Year’s. I always 
did want to get into the company.” 

“Get into the company? Why didn’t you 
grab the cash register?” 

“Honest, Jo, I thought I’d tell you this new 
pipe of mine because I knew you’d be interested. 
I’ve known you since the time I used to be 
98 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


wearin’ paper collars and you used to be chasin’ 
the can for your father on Sundays. That’s 
a long time ago, ain’t it? We was tough kids 
then, but we stuck together. I remember when 
I licked Skinny O’Brien fer swipin’ a nickel 
off you an’ you washed me mug fer me after 
it was all over. You couldn’t ’a’ been a better 
pal if you’d been a boy. We was awful poor 
then. Now, maybe it’ll be different. I ought 
to clean up a bunch of Uncle Sam’s promissory 
notes on the beanery here. Don’t you think 
it’s about time for me to get married?” 

“Better wait till late in the afternoon. The 
rush hour’ll be all over then.” 

“No kiddin’, Jo; do you think I could make a 
wife happy?” 

“That would depend on whose wife it was. I 
know one woman you could make happy.” 

“D’ye mean her?” he asked, glancing long- 
ingly towards Miss Davis. “Nothin’ to it, Jo. 
i 99 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


When she smiles in my direction, I’m hangin’ 
onto the ropes waitin’ for the tap of the bell. 
Do you think I’d ever be lucky enough to win 
her?” 

“You might be even luckier than- that.” 

“What’s that?” 

“I said you’d be awful lucky if you did.” 

“She’s the real thing all right. She wasn’t 
brought up to work in a place like this. She 
ain’t like you and me. You can tell breedin’ 
every time.” 

“Sure, you can tell it every time.” 

“Do you suppose she knows I’m in love with 
her?” 

“Yes.” 

“What makes you think she does?” 

“Oh, because she’s a woman, and that’s all 
women have to think about.” 

“Do you suppose she likes it?” 

“Any woman is flattered to be loved by any 


100 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


man, even if she has hundreds to love her and 
he has no one/’ 

“That what you said about hundreds to love 
her is about right. Honest, it would keep an 
expert accountant workin’ over time for a week 
to straighten out her date book. When she goes 
along La Salle street she blocks the traffic worse 
than a G. A. R. parade with a brass band, and 
all the bank presidents in the high buildings 
hang out over the sills like window washers 
tryin’ to flag her as she goes by. I wonder, 
would it make any difference to her because I 
ain’t much on education an’ such things?” 

“If I loved a man,” said Jo slowly, “it 
wouldn’t make any difference if he was a tramp 
and I was — and I was one of the great ladies of 
England.” 

He looked at her in surprise. 

“Gee!” he exclaimed, “you must be in love 
with somebody, too.” 


101 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


But his mind was too full of the object of 
his own adoration to be interested to any extent 
in the love affairs of his boyhood tomboy chum. 

“I know I ain’t got much, but I’m goin’ to 
boom the business so as to have somethin’ to 
offer her, an’ I want you to help me,” he went 
on. “You will help me win her, won’t you?” 

Had he been looking at her he would have 
seen a peculiar expression in her eyes, and 
an inkling of the situation might have dawned 
upon his keen perception ; but he saw nothing. 
There was almost a sob in her voice as she 
answered : 

“I’d help you get an5d:hing you were sure 
you wanted.” 

“You know I’m sort of an onion when it 
comes to tearin’ off this Ella Wheeler Wilcox 
language with a shirt-waist,” he continued 
apologetically. “I can pull barber-shop con- 
versation with a lady just as good as anybody, 
102 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


but if it ever got down to a case of lookin’ a 
gazelle square in the eye and askin’ her to 
marry, I’d be apt to throw a shoe. Say, you 
never proposed to anybody, did you?” 

“I should say not.” 

“I thought maybe you could give me some 
pointers on how it was done. Say, why not 
let me try it on you once? Let’s pretend you’re 
the girl I’m in love with. There’s no one in 
the place. She’s gone out, and the waitresses 
are fixing up their back hair somewheres.” 

She shrank back. 

“Won’t it be hard for you to pretend that?” 

“It would be kind of funny, wouldn’t it, to 
pretend I wanted to marry you?” he said, still 
too engrossed in his own emotions to notice 
the suspicion of bitterness in her query. 

“That’s as near as some people ever get to 
things they want — just pretending,” sighed the 
girl. 


103 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“I’ll try it. You’re Elsie. I’m me. I say, 
‘Little one, do you think you and me could ever 
go out flat huntin’ together? Could you dope 
it out so’s we could sit evenin’s by the gas 
grate an’ listen to the wind flirtin’ with the 
storm windows? Is there a chance in the world 
for anything like that ?’ ” 

He took her hand, and she averted her face, 
struggling to keep back the hot tears that 
welled from her wounded heart. 

“Why don’t you answer?” he demanded. 

“Don’t, Con,” she entreated, withdrawing her 
hand with a sudden movement. “Don’t talk 
to me like that. I can’t bear it.” 

“I knew I was a bad actor but I thought I 
done pretty well that time,” he grinned, never 
for a moment imagining that she was not act- 
ing herself. “Maybe it’s because I knew it was 
only a joke.” 

“Yes, Con, it was only a joke,” she repeated, 


104 


THE GIRL QUESTION' 


regaining control of herself by a mighty effort 
in which pride came to her aid. “Let’s not 
talk about it any more.” 

“I got to think of somethin’ else. That Eng- 
lishman told me the proper stunt was to write 
the dame a letter. I guess I’ll do that. You 
can help me write it, because I got to ask her 
some way to-day before she quits the shop for 
good to go on the stage. She’s got a job in the 
chorus and is going next week. Did she tell 
you?” 

“She never told me anything about it.” 

“Well, wait a minute while I get some paper 
and a pen.” 

In a moment he returned, and, seating him- 
self opposite to her, took up the pen awkwardly 
and began to think, while she with tightly 
pressed lips watched him in silence. 

“How would you begin this?” he demanded 
helplessly. “‘Miss E. Davis — dear Madam?”’ 

105 


THE GIRL QUESTION. 


“That sounds rather formal, doesn’t it?” she 
demurred. 

“Maybe it is a little stiff. How’ll I start?” 

“Just start. Don’t call her anything and 
you can’t go wrong.” 

He began to write, and after crumpling up 
three false starts succeeded in producing some- 
thing that he read and re-read with evident 
satisfaction. 

“How’s this?” he said at last, reading it 
aloud : “ 1 ain’t the President of the First 
National Bank, but when the pipe is drawing 
right, I can figure out where I can get the coin 
to pay for the installments on enough red plush 
furniture to do for two people. Would you be 
willing to hold down the other end of the break- 
fast table from me for life? If you would, leave 
a white carnation on your desk for me when 
you leave. If you can’t see me with a spy glass, 
break it to me with a red one in the same place. 

106 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


Yours, Con.’ I hope I used regular dic- 
tionary spellin’ on that. How does it look 
to you?” 

She took it from him and perused it. 

“It looks all right,” she approved. “How are 
you going to give it to her ?” 

“That’s where you come to the front. You put 
it in this envelope and hand it to her when she 
comes in. I ain’t got sand enough to do it 
myself, but you don’t mind, ’cause you ain’t 
interested. I got to go to see the boss, anyway. 
You’ll do it, won’t you?” 

“Yeh.” 

“A white carnation if she’ll have me and a 
red one if she won’t. Gee ! I guess if she should 
'slip me the red one I wouldn’t ever want to see 
this place again.” 

He seized his hat and went out. Jo stood 
looking after him with mingled rage and des- 
pair in her heart, her little hands clenched so 
107 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


tightly that the finger-nails sank into the flesh 
and drew blood. Very pale, she crumpled up 
the letter, went to the vase, took a red carnation 
and placed it in a conspicuous position on the 
desk. Then she returned to her table and gazed 
with stony stare out of the window. 

“Mr. Sears said : Tf you have a chance to get 
what you want without being caught, take it,’ ” 
she muttered. “He’s right. I will.” 

At length a flush came into her bloodless 
cheeks, and she looked around guiltily, as 
though it were possible for anyone to have seen 
her. Hesitatingly she drew the crumpled mis- 
sive from her pocket. Slowly she smoothed it 
out. Twice she started for the desk, and twice 
drew back. 

“I can’t! Oh, I can’t!” she moaned. 

Finally the fierce struggle within her was 
decided. Going to the desk she placed the let- 


108 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


ter under a weight and put the carnation back 
in the vase. Then, unable longer to restrain 
the flood pent up with such difficulty, she burst 
into tears and hurried from the room. 


109 


CHAPTER VII 


Frequenters of the Golden Palace and others 
in the New Year’s eve crowds bent on cele- 
brating at the “restaurant of the pretty wait- 
resses,” as the place had come to be known, 
were amazed to find that on this of all nights 
it was closed. The electric signs shone resplen- 
dency and added to the gayety of La Salle 
Street, but shades which shut the interior com- 
pletely from sight had been put up at the win- 
dows, and the door was locked. 

Had its oldest customer been able to obtain 
admittance he would have failed to recognize 
the place. The dining tables had been removed. 
Red carpet covered the entire floor. Similar 
hued hangings and draperies masked the walls, 
and around the room and on the new electric 
110 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


fixtures which cast a brilliant light over the 
scene hung wreaths and garlands of holly and 
mistletoe. A balcony which overlooked the 
main dining-room and which had been reserved 
for the orchestra was banked heavily with 
palms. 

Harold Sears, Jo, Lord Murray and Billy, the 
cook, who had been helping to effect this trans- 
formation, desisted from their labors and cast 
a critical eye around to see where further fin- 
ishing touches were needed. 

“Reminds me of Old England in the holi- 
days, don’t you know,” observed Lord Murray. 
“It’s perfectly ripping over there, then.” 

“Rather funny for a cafe to suspend business 
on New Year’s eve just to give a party,” re- 
marked Harold. 

“Yes, it’s too bad to lose all the coin we’d 
take in here to-night if the restaurant was 
open,” assented Jo. “But we had to give Elsie 
111 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


a kind of celebration, you know. Let’s see, 
she’s been on the stage just three months, 
hasn’t she?” 

“About that; but she’s made the hit of the 
year.” 

“I hope she’ll have a good time here to-night. 
If she don’t it’ll break Con’s heart. Why he’s 
been planning this blow-out in her honor for 
weeks. Cost quite a lot to fix the place up just 
for to-night, and I hope she’ll appreciate it.” 

“Of course she will,” declared Lord Murray 
confidently. “We’ll all pitch in and make it 
a go, don’t you know.” 

“Yes,” pleaded the girl, “help Con all you 
can, because this society game is new to him 
and if he didn’t pull it off all right before Elsie, 
he’d never get over it. Gee!” she added, ad- 
dressing Sears, “him and Elsie would make an 
awful swell couple — don’t you think so?” 

Harold looked at her thoughtfully, filled with 
112 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


pity, knowing that her little heart was swollen 
big with anguish. 

“I guess you and I don’t need to say much 
about that, Jo,” he answered so that only she 
could hear. “Brace up, girl, we’re both in the 
same boat.” 

Con Ryan at this juncture made his appear- 
ance in a hired dress suit, the tight fit of which 
increased the discomfort which the mere fact 
of being attired in the “glad rags,” as he called 
them, manifestly occasioned him. 

“Don’t stand around here loafin’, Billy,” he 
commanded. “It’s eleven o’clock now, and the 
sky-rockets begin in a few minutes. Gee ! ain’t 
those decorations a knock-out! Did you pipe 
the palms up there? Got an idea I’m going 
to spring that’ll knock you all a twister. 
I bet Elsie’ll be tickled when she sees all 
this has been framed up for her.” 

“Yes, but you mustn’t expect her to enthuse 


113 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


much,” warned Harold. “People on the stage 
are entertained so much, you know.” 

“Yeh,” agreed Con, a slightly worried look 
coming into his face and showing that the 
thought of this was by no means new to him. 

“Is that a full dress suit?” queried Jo. 

“I should say so,” he answered her, “it’s so 
full it’s ripping in the back.” 

“You’d better get a black tie and let me fix 
it for you,” she advised, looking him over dep- 
recatingly. “If Elsie saw that rainbow she’d 
die.” 

Con became anxious. 

“Say, wouldn’t she care for it?” he said. “I 
thought it was a knock-out. I got it at an Elk’s 
reunion.” 

Lord Murray wanted to know whether the 
suit was made to order. 

“I don’t think it was made to wear,” declared 
Harold. “What makes it smell so funny?” 


114 


THE GIRL QUESTION. 


“That’s moth balls,” Con explained. “The 
guy said that’s the only way to keep from get- 
ting holes in the suit. I got about a pound. I 
have to take one every hour. Say, on the dead, 
Jo, is it a good fit?” 

“You couldn’t have a better fit if you were 
an epileptic,” the girl assured him. 

' “I thought it was kind of tight at first, but 
the guy that sold it to me said, Tf I were you 
I wouldn’t have it touched.’ I’m just crazy 
to get one look at myself.” 

“You’d be crazy if you did get one look,” 
commented Jo. 

“By the way. Con,” interrupted Sears, “I 
suppose you know how to dance?” 

“Do I? Say, when it comes to performing 
in the ball room. I’m the pride of the Black- 
smiths’ Union.” 

“Where did you learn?” 

“By correspondence.” 


115 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“I suppose there’ll be some most extraordi- 
nary looking people here to-night,” suggested 
Lord Murray. 

“Will there! Sure!” answered Con. 
“There’ll be a whole bunch of Montgomery 
Ward make-ups, I suppose, but they’re all my 
pals and I’m going to stack ’em to a good time 
with punch and all the hay-fever torches they 
can smoke. All I hope is they don’t get too 
much up their nose.” 

“I’m very curious to see some Americans of 
the working class,” confided Lord Murray. 

“I guess you won’t know ’em when you see 
’em,” Con told him. “Why, say, if the Amer- 
ican working man looked like the pictures of 
him on the editorial page, you’d have to have a 
union button to get into the Charity Ball.” 

“Well, anyway, this won’t be as bad as run- 
ning a country dance for a lot of farmers,” put 
in Sears. 


116 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“I don’t know,” replied Con warmly. “Let 
me put you next to something. The tall grass 
ain’t got any corner on flat-heads. There’s 
just as many Indians on Madison Street as there 
are at Peavie Junction.” 

“Say, what did your tailor make that suit 
for?’-' questioned the young man, changing the 
subject. 

“I think he made it for spite,” laughed Jo 

“Aw, it ain’t so bad,” Con protested. “He 
said it would last as long as I wanted to wear 
it. I knew he was right as soon as I looked in 
the glass. Say, let’s cut out the kiddin’ and get 
busy for the big smoke, Jo. Do you know any- 
thing about handling a big party?” 

“I waited on Mr. Taft once.” 

“Maybe we can suggest a few things,” said 
Harold. “It might be a good plan to have Elsie 
bring some of the girls from the show with her 
after they get through and sing some songs to 
entertain the guests.” 


117 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“You’re on, kid — that’s immense,” assented 
Con enthusiastically. 

“Then you must have an announcer to tell 
everybody who the guests are when they ar- 
rive,” said Lord Murray. 

“You mean insult ’em right to their faces?” 

“That’s all right,” declared Jo, “let Billy do 
it.” 

“And I’ll be the reception committee and 
shake hands with everybody,” volunteered Lord 
Murray. 

“That’s the cheese,” acquiesced Con delight- 
edly. “You’d be a knock-out as a head waiter. 
Hi, Billy, come here,” he called as the black 
cook appeared at the door. “Did you put the 
stove out?” 

“Not yet, suh! I’m gwine to frow it out 
to-morrow.” 

“How about the punch? Has it got a stick 
in it?” 


118 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“I dunno, boss. I didn’t notice what was in 
the bowl befo’ I poured de punch in. Maybe 
it don’t taste like nuffin, but it suttinly does look 
great. Anybody dat don’t like dat punch must 
be color blind, yas sah !” 

Jo, who was hanging up a bunch of mistletoe, 
turned to the cook. 

“Listen, Billy,” she said, “you’re to stand 
at the door and announce all the guests.” 

“Yessum, I sho’ nuff will denounce ’em, yas 
sah!” 

“Gee!” exclaimed Con, going over to her. 
“I almost forgot about the mistletoe. You look 
great to-night, kid. Let’s practise. Pretend 
we’re both somebody else.” 

“All right— pretend I’m Elsie—” 

“Who’ll I be?” 

“Oh, I don’t care. You needn’t pretend to be 
anybody, I guess.” 


no 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“Do you think she’ll make me a good wife?” 
he demanded happily. 

Jo laughed a little forced laugh. 

“No, I think she’ll make you a good hus- 
band,” she replied, deftly eluding him as he 
sought to kiss her, and fleeing from the room. 

He would have pursued her, but was headed 
off by a man who entered. 

“Say, Con,” said the newcomer, “I want to 
come to the blow-out, but I got to have a suit of 
soup and fish. Have you got anything you can 
lend me?” 

“Sure, brother,” replied that obliging gentle- 
man. “I’ve been saving it for one of you guys, 
but be careful how you wear it. My father wore 
that suit when he was married. Go and ask 
Billy for it.” 

“Mistah William Jenkins, Mistah Walter 
Warburton, Mistah Harry Wright, Mistah 


120 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


Percy Johnson,” yelled Billy at the door, as four 
men in evening dress made their appearance 
and confided their names to him. 

“Glad to know you, really — glad to know 
you,” said Lord Murray hurrying up and shak- 
ing hands with them effusively. 

“Hang up your lids, you guys, and come into 
the game,” invited Con. “I see you got on your 
fancy scenery. Pm wearing a percy outfit my- 
self. How are your pipes ? Are they in singing 
trim to-night?” 

“Great — but so dry you could brush the dust 
off of ’em,” said the first man to enter. 

“That’s all right — you’ll find the dusters in 
that room over there. Pick out your own brand 
of poison and begin hoisting. I got something 
framed up here to-night I want you to help 
me with. Just about twelve o’clock I’m going 
to pull off a Chauncey Depew speil. At the 


121 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


wind-up I want you to chime in with a little 
joyous yodling — something to welcome the 
new year in, you know. Are you on?” 

“Sure, Con, what do you want us to sing?” 

“Do you all know ‘Is Everybody Happy?’ ” 

“Yep.” 

“That’s the eye. I want to pull this off as a 
surprise. I’ll be shootin’ this hot air I was 
tollin’ you about and toward the finish I’ll say, 
Ts Everybody Happy?’ When I pull that it’s 
your cue to come out there on the balcony and 
begin piping. Remember, I say, Ts Everybody 
Happy?’ an’ you begin. If everything goes 
right with me an’ the Queen of Sheba to-night, 
I expect to be feelin’ pretty happy myself. 
That’s why I picked out this song, see?” 

“All right,” said the spokesman. “Come on, 
boys, let’s oil up.” 

When they were gone. Con turned anxiously 
to Billy. 


THE GIRL Q U E ST ION 


“Did you hear what I said?’’ he questioned. 

“Yas, sah, boss.” 

“Well, them guys by that time won’t be able 
to see through a ladder, or I don’t know ’em. 
You keep your eyes on me, and when I say ‘Is 
Everybody Happy?’ you push ’em out. Then 
when they get through singing. I’ll tip you the 
wink to turn on that ‘Happy New Year to 
Elsie’ sign hidden in the balcony. Catch on?” 

“Yas, boss, you kin depend on me,” said Billy 
earnestly. “I kin do anythin’, boss. You leave 
it to me.” 

The man who had gone off to don the suit 
loaned by Con came in, followed by Jo, who 
was laughing at him. The suit was painfully 
tight and its wearer looked miserable. 

“Gee! you look great,” commented Con ad- 
miringly. “Honest, I wouldn’t know you with 
it on. Turn around, pal. Ain’t that swell on 
him?” 


123 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“Ripping,” admitted Lord Murray. 

“I knew it would,” said the man miserably. 
“I feel kind of funny in it.” 

“My father wore that suit before the war.” 

“Yes,” said Jo dryly, “that’s what started 
the war.” 

“Of course, you know I’m awful glad to have 
you wear it,” went on Con, ignoring the girl’s 
remark, “but I’d hate to have anything happen 
to it; it was my father’s. You can wear it just 
as long as you like, but for Heaven’s sake, don’t 
sit down in it. And don’t spill anything on 
it. You better not eat anything while you got it 
on.” 

“Aw, give us a rest,” grumbled the man. “Can 
I have a dance with you this evening. Miss 
Sargent?” 

“Sure, two if you like,” she answered 
promptly. 


124 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“Gee! you ain’t goin’ to dance in that suit, 
are you ?” demanded Con, alarmed. “I wouldn’t 
care, but it was my old man’s. You look great 
just standin’ still. I wouldn’t move if I was 
you. Just stand over in that corner all evening. 
Don’t eat anything, don’t drink, don’t dance, 
and don’t breathe much, an’ you’ll make the hit 
of your life.” 

By this time the guests, a fanciful and won- 
derful aggregation, were crowding into the 
room. Some, awkward in an atmosphere of 
such luxury and their unaccustomed evening 
dress, crossed it gingerly as though diffident 
about treading on the carpet. Others entered 
with an exaggerated swagger in an effort to ap- 
pear at ease and as to the manner born. Among 
the women who fussed in were Tessie and 
Sybil. 

“Are we late?” gushed the latter, mincing 


125 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


over to Con. “We rushed right over from the 
theatre as soon as the show ended. I ain’t 
sure all the make-up’s off yet.” 

“No, it ain’t all off yet,” he grinned. 

“I’m so glad! I mean, how provoking! Tell 
me, Jo, dear, is my dress all right in the back?” 

“Yes — in the back,” said Jo. 

“My gown is real mouse lean de sooey, my 
dear.” 

“That’s the same as chop suey — only it’s 
French,” commented Con. 

“There’s a stunnin’ picture hat goes with 
this,” went on Sybil, taking no notice of him. 

“Yes?” said Jo. “What does it represent — 
Washington crossing his fingers?” 

The music by this time had started up and 
the whole room was awhirl. Lord Murray, re- 
lieved of his duties as reception committee, 
went over to Jo, who had declined several 
would-be partners, and, sitting aloof in a cor- 
12G 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


ner, was writing on a card. She did not feel 
like dancing. 

“I say, cousin ” he began. 

Jo interrupted him hastily. 

“That’s all right, --that cousin thing, when 
we’re alone, but don’t ever let anyone else hear 
you do that,” objected the girl. 

“Really,” he remonstrated, “I can’t see why 
you don’t admit publicly that you are a member 
of Lord Sargent’s family and owner of an 
English fortune invested in the Grand Central 
Railroad.” 

“No, you don’t understand,” she said, fol- 
lowing with her eyes Con, who was dancing. 
“I don’t want him to know about it.” 

“You mean Mr. Con?” 

“Yeh. I feel like it might queer me with 
him if he thought I was an heiress. We’ve al- 
ways been such good pals. That’s the only 
good thing that ever happened to me and I want 
127 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


to keep his friendship until after he marries 
Elsie. Then I won’t care so much.” 

His lordship whistled, and stared at her 
through his eyeglass. He could find nothing to 
say. 

“Would you mind doing me a favor?” asked 
the girl suddenly. 

“It would afford me the keenest pleasure to 
do you a thousand favors,” he answered ear- 
nestly. 

She acknowledged his gallantry with a pitiful 
little smile and completed what she had begun 
to write. Then she put the card in a little 
box in which reposing on white wool was 
a bright twenty dollar gold piece mounted to 
wear on a watch chain. She tied the box with 
pink ribbon and handed it to Lord Murray. 

“I want him to get this at midnight,” she 
said. “I— I’m not feeling very well and may 
not be here.” 


128 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“You are feeling ill?” he said. “I'm awfully 
sorry, cousin. Is there anything I can do for 
you?” 

She shook her head. 

“Only what I have asked you to do. I’m real 
grateful to you. You’re a good sort.” 

Con’s gyrations with his partner were swing- 
ing him towards the corner. Jo moved off and 
Lord Murray became lost in the whirl of dan- 
cers. The girl went over towards the guests’ 
door, and as she did so Mr. and Mrs. T. P. Q. 
Sears appeared on the threshold. The magnate 
looked, at the unaccustomed scene with no ap- 
proving eye. 

“What’s all this nonsense?” he demanded of 
Billy, whose mouth expanded from ear to ear 
in a grin of welcome as he recognized the new- 
comer. 

“It’s a New Year party,” explained Jo, step- 
ping forward. 


129 


THE GIRL QUESTION. 


“Humph. I guess we’re not invited. We’ve 
just been to the theatre and dropped in on our 
way home. Tell me, is that my fool son I see 
over there?” 

“Mr. Harold is here.” 

“What do you know about that woman he’s 
in love with now — Davis or something like 
that?” he queried. 

“She’s an actress.” 

“Really?” said Mrs. Sears. 

“Well,” replied Jo, qualifying her assertion, 
“some of the critics ain’t positive about it yet.” 

“She’s the one we saw at the theatre this 
evening,” said Mrs. Sears to her husband. 
“You remember we couldn’t see what she looked 
like because Mrs. Westville, who sat in the box 
just ahead of ours, wore such a large ostrich 
plume in her hat. I saw one just like it on 
Wabash Avenue, right there where the cars 
turn. I think it’s simply horrid the way you 
130 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


never can get a seat coming down town in the 
morning. Of course, usually I come in the 
auto, but once in a while the chauffeur — well, as 

I was saying What was it I started to tell 

you about ?” 

Sears, glaring towards his son, had not 
listened to her. She repeated the question. 

“Are you talking again or yet?” he demanded 
savagely. “If my son should ever marry an 
actress, Td disinherit him.” 

“What would you do with your money?” ques- 
tioned Jo, while Mrs. Sears subsided. 

“I’d chuck it in the lake before I’d let Harold 
spend it on an actress,” he declared emphati- 
cally. 

“Wouldn’t you leave anything to charity?” 

“Yes — my son.” 

“Aren’t you a philanthropist?” 

“I’m old enough to be one. The only differ- 
ence between a grafter and a philanthropist is 
131 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


a matter of years. A man’s a grafter until he’s 
sixty and a philanthropist after that. Under- 
stand what I mean?” 

“How well you are looking, Mrs. Sears,” said 
Jo, anxious to relieve her embarrassment. 
“Marriage has made a lot of difference in you.” 

“You bet it has,” growled Sears. “I used to 
get her for twelve dollars a week. Now she 
costs me twelve thousand. With all those 
clothes on she inventories about twenty thou- 
sand as she stands.” 

“I never saw a man who thought more of his 
wife than you do,” commented Jo ironically 
and a little disgustedly. 

^ “Harold did before I married her,” he 
snapped. 

Mrs. Sears, accustomed to her husband’s fits 
of ill humor was too wise to show resentment 
at his treatment of her. 

“He thinks twice as much of me as he did of . 


132 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


his first wife,” she said gushingly. “He bought 
her Louis Fifteen furniture but he got me 
Louis Thirty, that’s fourteen more Louis 
than anyone else ever had. I do love French 
things — they’re so rechurchy. I’m just learning 
Latin and chiropody. I think those foreign 
languages are fine.” 

“Did you know that this restaurant becomes 
my property after to-night?” inquired Sears, 
ignoring her and addressing Jo. 

“No,” admitted Jo, amazed. 

“Yes, I bought the mortgage to-day and the 
constable will serve the writ of foreclosure this 
evening. Understand what I mean?” 

“The girl gazed at him in consternation. 

“That’s tough on Con,” she said. “It’ll break 
him all up and spoil his party. Can’t you wait 
until after the party is over, please?” 

“Oh, it don’t make any difference to me so 
long as I get the place,” he retorted shrugging 


133 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


his shoulders. “I’m going to make an office out 
of it. Do you mind if I show my wife 
through?” 

“No, not at all. Go as far as you like,” she 
invited. 

Jo forgot all about feeling ill and her inten- 
tion to go away. Her little heart was filled with 
profound chagrin on Con’s behalf. He was 
happy in the delusion that he would reopen the 
Golden Palace next morning as part proprietor, 
realizing in a measure his life ambition to own 
a restaurant of his own. Now, he was to be 
awakened rudely from his dream, at the mo- 
ment when his cup of happiness was to be filled 
to overflowing by Elsie. Sears, coveting the 
place, and all powerful with his money, had by 
a sharp, quick deal acquired the property from 
the original owner and foreclosed the mortgage 
to oust the restaurant people, after having as- 
certained that they were not in a position to 
134 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


meet it or settle on arrears of interest ; for the 
place had only begun to pay since Con Ryan 
had assumed charge and attracted custom by 
his quaint quips and cranks and his policy of 
engaging as waitresses the prettiest girls in 
Chicago that were available. 

“Going to foreclose, is he?” soliloquized Jo, 
a resolute look coming into her eyes. “He won’t 
until after this party is over — not if I know 
anything about handling constables, and I 
ought to. I was brought up with ’em. They 
were always moving the furniture out of our 
home.” 

Meanwhile Sears, his mind filled only with 
business and his plans for the building had 
neglected his wife, who was gazing at the dan- 
cers with interest from the ante-room when 
Lord Murray saw and joined. her. 

Billy’s stentorian voice raised in a bellow 
which dominated the music and the noise of the 
135 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


ball announced Miss Elsie Davis and the ladies 
from the Princess’ Theatre. 

Con, trembling with excitement and joy, 
burst through the crowd to greet her. 

“Gee!” he exclaimed, half abashed in pres- 
ence of the regally splendid creature the for- 
mer cashier appeared to him to be, “you’re 
lookin’ immense to-night, Elsie. The blow-out 
couldn’t start right till you came, and I hope 
you’ll like it.” 

“Of course I shall,” she responded gracious- 
ly, glancing over the scene with inward sur- 
prise. “How pretty the place is. It all looks 
so different.” 

She, with the gratified Con, whose face 
beamed with pleasure and pride — as Jo, watch- 
ing jealously, her heart breaking under its load 
of misery, could see — were swallowed up in the 
throng which gathered eagerly about the bevy 
of beauties from the theatre. 


136 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“There’s that actress!” sniffed Mrs. Sears. 
“I’d never have set foot in this place if I’d 
known she was to be here.” 

But Lord Murray, who could be deaf when 
he wanted to, piloted her deftly until they 
found themselves face to face with Elsie. 

“Mrs. Sears,” said Con, rising to the demands 
of his role as master of ceremonies, “let me 
knock you down to Elsie Davis, the girl that 
makes ’em all get up out of their seats and 
whistle. You ought to see her on the stage. 
She wears a dress that makes the Board of 
Trade sound like a deaf mutes’ convention.” 

“I think I have seen Miss Davis somewhere,” 
returned Mrs. Sears, coldly, without shaking 
hands. She had recognized the girl at once. 
“Maybe it was at the theatre.” 

“Yes — or maybe we met here,” retorted El- 
sie. “One is obliged to meet so many people 
in a restaurant.” 


137 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“I didn’t know so many ladies from the stage 
would be here,” chimed in Lord Murray, scent- 
ing trouble, and anxious to avert it. 

“Are there any ladies from the stage here?” 
demanded Mrs. Sears, imparting to the ques- 
tion a society drawl she had heard an actress 
a la mode use in impersonating a grande dame 
of a royal court, and which she concluded must 
be the habitual tone employed in conversation 
in aristocratic circles. 

Con, who in turn realized that something was 
wrong, put in heartily: 

“There ought to be a bunch of them here. 
I invited everybody.” 

“So I perceive,” commented the irrepressible 
Mrs. Sears, looking squarely at Elsie. 

Jo came to the actress’ aid. 

“Of course, Elsie, only a few of us were 
forced to come,” she said. “Say, Con, this 


\ 


138 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


paint on the floor is beginning to get all 
scratched up. Look at it.” 

“Yes,” observed Mrs. Sears, who decidedly 
was in aggressive mood and spoiling for 
trouble, “yes, paint doesn’t look at all well in 
this light. Don’t you find it so. Miss Davis?” 

Before the latter could reply, Con, who, like 
Lord Murray, was becoming seriously worried, 
cut in with a diversion. 

“Gee, there’s some phoney looking gazelles 
here,” he exclaimed. “There’s one dame that 
don’t look as if you could get her out of her 
dress unless you broke the glass and used the 
axe. That’s her there, with that Indian that 
waltzes as if he had the cramp colic. She’s 
his wife. He had to marry her on an election 
bet. Gee! that guy done lots of strong plug- 
ging for Bryan.” 

“Tell me,” inquired Lord Murray of Elsie, 


139 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


backing up their host’s effort, “is it hard for a 
chorus girl to get on?” 

“No — a chorus girl is always on,” laughed 
Elsie. 

“Is there much money in being an actress?” 

“Well, sometimes. I’m working for half my 
regular salary just now. The other half is 
a present.” 

But Mrs. Sears returned to the attack. “By 
the way, what color hair do you find most 
effective, from your experience. Miss Davis?” 
she asked. 

Elsie this time got back at her. 

“I think yours is perfectly beautiful, my 
dear,” she said sweetly. “It looks so natural.” 

“It’s very peculiar,” observed Lord Murray 
determinedly, “I’ve noticed one little man there 
who seems to be familar with all the ladies, but 
the men don’t seem to care for him.” 

“You mean that little Clarence with the man- 


140 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


icured features?” said Con. “That’s always 
the way. Any time you see a fresh young rab- 
bit who has a high batting average with the 
Geraldine, you can gamble he’s never much 
of a ten strike with the pokerplayers.” 

“The chorus girls seem to have won all the 
men,” remarked Elsie. 

“They always do,” opined Mrs. Sears wick- 
edly. “It’s disgraceful. I can’t see why. There 
ought to be some law to protect young men from 
chorus girls who don’t care anything about 
them, but to get them drunk and spend their 
money — ” 

Con interrupted, and this time came squarely 
to the defense of the Woman he loved. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said in displeased 
tone, intended to shut Mrs. Sears off once for 
all. “It ain’t just right to hand any Tobasco 
remarks to the merry-merrys. A lot of them 
chorus girls blow in here off and on and I’ve 
141 

J 



THE GIRL QUESTION 


got ’em sized up as a pretty white bunch. If 
one of these Johnnies that is black with coin 
wants to blow it on a chorus girl, why shouldn’t 
she let him ? It’s an even break on both sides. 
He wants to be entertained and he ought to be 
willin’ to pay for it. He’s got money to burn 
and the chorus girl likes the smell of smoke, 
that’s all. Of course, there’s a lot of battle- 
axes in the business, but when you figure that’s 
the only way a chorus girl can have any fun, 
you can’t blame ’em for trimmin’ a lot of these 
mackarels, and lemme put you next to one 
thing — when you size ’em all up as bein’ the 
kind you always read about in the magazine 
stories, you’re dead wrong.” 

“Bravo! That’s the style,” approved Lord 
Murray with such emphasis that his companion 
took the hint that her remarks were appre- 
ciated by no one. 


142 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“Thanks, Con, you’re a gentleman,” said El- 
sie, truly grateful. 

Con was resolved that there should be no 
further opportunity for these exchanges of 
acrimony. 

He signaled to the orchestra, and, raising 
his voice so that it rang through the big room, 
which at once became silent, cried: 

“All ready for the grand march! Form in 
line! Take your partners! Everybody follow 
me and the big squeal !” 

He turned to offer his arm to Elsie, but she 
was already clinging to that of Harold Sears, 
who, having rid himself of his previous part- 
ner, had hurried to her side. 

“Thanks, Con, I have a partner,” refused 
the girl. 

Con was staggered, amazed. All eyes were 
upon them. 


143 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“B — but,” he stammered weakly, turning pale 
and then flushing scarlet, “this is the grand 
march — for you and me. It’s all for you.” 

“I’m sorry. Con,” said Elsie firmly. “I 
promised Mr. Sears that I would have no other 
partner to-night. I can’t break my word.” 

He stood aghast, stunned, unable fully to 
comprehend it all, unable to move or to speak. 

With quick wit Jo took in the situation and 
came bravely to the rescue and assumed direc- 
tion of affairs. 

“No, you’re all mixed up, Con,” she said 
loudly, so that everybody could hear, “Elsie’s 
right. You don’t understand these things. It 
would never do for the host to take the guest 
of honor away from another guest. She 
couldn’t refuse Mr. Sears — it wouldn’t be po- 
lite.” 

She added gayly to the orchestra as she took 
his arm: 


144 



HE STOOD AGHAST, STUNNED, UNABLE TO SIOVE OR SPEAK. 

Page 144 . 





THE GIRL QUESTION 


“Strike up the Grand March. Mr. Sears, you 
lead with Elsie. Con and I will follow.” 

The march began and they had paraded up 
and down and all round the room before Con 
recovered from the shock. He did not utter 
a word until the march was concluded and then 
when the couples had dispersed, he drew her 
into the ante-room and sent Billy away on 
some pretext. 

When the negro’s back was turned, Con took 
both of Jo’s hands and, as shyly and wonder- 
ingly she raised her eyes to his, she saw that 
they were filled with tears. 

“I got to hand it to you, old pal,” he said 
brokenly, “you saved me from an awful bump 
and you made me see things I never saw before. 
I guess I’ve been an awful Indian not to tum- 
ble. You had to lie to get me out of that, but 
it was the whitest lie I ever saw pulled, and I 
ain’t goin’ to forget.” 


145 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


His grasp on her hands tightened until she 
could have cried with the pain, as he added : 

“There ain’t no mistletoe where you are 
standin’ but can I kiss you for that, kid?” 

For answer, simply and without the slightest 
hesitation, she offered her lips, and he bent and 
kissed her. 

Billy, prompt to execute the order, re- 
appeared, picking his way around the ball room. 
Jo pushed Con towards the ball room. 

“Go on back to your guests. You’ll be wanted 
in there, and you’ll miss a dance,” she said. 

He obeyed her mechanically, but when he 
had taken a few steps, turned back. 

“You’ll come with me,” he said. “Take my 
arm. We’ll show the whole darned lot.” 

“No, not that. Nothing like that,” she re- 
fused quickly. “Go in there! Go away!” 

Again she pushed him, and this time he con- 
tinued on out among the dancers. 


146 


CHAPTER VIII 


Jo watched Con as he re-entered the ball 
room, tumultuous bliss in her soul. The whole 
course of the stars in her universe had been 
suddenly, miraculously, changed, and the world 
which half an hour before had been black as 
the nether darkness to her poor, hopeless eyes, 
now appeared transformed by a great glory 
light. She raised her hands still aching and 
tingling from the pressure of his convulsive 
clasp and kissed them. 

A man opened the door behind her, and stood 
there hesitatingly as she turned. 

“Come in,’’ she said. “What do you want?” 

“I’m a constable,” he explained, “and I’ve 
come to serve a writ of foreclosure.” 

“Oh, you have. Well, wait just a moment.” 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


To Billy, who having circumnavigated the 
ball room, reached the ante-room at this junct- 
ure, she said : 

^ “Go and ask Mr. Sears’ college friends to 
come here.” 

In a minute three of them had joined her. 

“You can’t see Mr. Ryan now,” said Jo to 
the unwelcome visitor. “He’s busy.” 

The representative of the law expressed the 
determination to see him anyway, and inti- 
mated that he did not want to be kept waiting. 

She drew the college men to one side and 
held a hurried consultation with them; then 
said to the constable: 

“All right. Go with these gentlemen. They 
will put you right.” 

“Yes, come on,” invited her fellow conspira- 
tors. “We’ll treat you right.” 

He demurred, suspecting a trick, but they 
pounced upon him and hustled him away to- 
148 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


wards the barroom, where barkeepers and 
waiters were working at highest pressure. 
Billy went with them to lend a hand, if neces- 
sary, and Jo followed to watch the fun. 

Lord Murray with Mrs. Sears on his arm, 
passing the ante-room as they strolled around 
the crowd engrossed in the terpsichorean de- 
lights of a two-step, noticed that it was empty 
and led his companion to a divan there, onto 
which she sank with a sigh of satisfaction. 

“I had a most romantic experience in a place 
like this once,’' she observed. “I promised to 
marry three men the same night, thinking they 
were the same one.” 

“Most extraordinary!” he commented. 

“Yes,” she went on, “it was at a masquerade. 
I went with a man I was desperately in love 
with. He wore a blue domino. We were sit- 
ting in a quiet corner like this and he had just 
proposed to me when two other men with blue 
149 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


dominos came up at the same time. By the way, 
I’ll tell you who one of them was. Do you re- 
member that Mrs. Miller I pointed out to you 
the other day? Well, her husband was just get- 
ting off a car on State Street and there was 
an Italian organ-grinder right there having an 
argument with a woman who used to wash for 
us — Mrs. Murphy was her name. We always 
hired her because she did up shirt waists so 
well. Do you remember that one I had on 
yesterday? I’ll tell you how I’m going to have 
it made. Hand embroidery over here, and — 
What was it I started to tell you about?” 

“I don’t know, and, by Jove, I don’t care, so 
long as your husband doesn’t come,” avowed 
his lordship boldly, leaning over the back 
of the divan so near to her that his moustache 
almost brushed her face. 

“You flirt too much for a husband,” she 
laughed, moving a little away from him and 
150 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


turning so that she could see him, “but you’d 
be a dandy to be engaged to. Tell me the 
truth now. How many women in America have 
you made love to?” 

“Don’t know exactly. What’s the popula- 
tion?” 

“Did you ever make love to a married woman 
before?” 

“Upon my soul, never before she was 
married.” 

“Do you talk the same way to all of them?” 

“No, not every one. I haven’t met them all 
yet. Won’t you have some more punch? I 
helped make it myself.” 

He went to a table on which stood a bowl of 
the iced concoction, filled a glass for her, and 
squirted some seltzer into another glass for 
himself. 

“You feel so much more sociable after a little 
drink, don’t you know,” he said as he handed 
151 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


it to her. “I’m drinking seltzer myself just 
now. This is the fifth I’ve had to-night.” 

The woman laughed. 

“Aren’t you afraid of getting drowned?” she 
inquired. 

“No. Let me take your hand and we’ll swim 
ashore together,” he said. 

She made no objection and he sat beside her, 
her hand in his. 

“Deuced romantic,” he murmured. 

“Yes, through the seltzer,” was her rejoinder. 

“Why is your husband so jealous of you?” 

“Look at him — then look at me. People say 
I married him for his money.” 

“Aw— did you?” 

“Well, if I did I guess I earn all I get.” 

“Will you marry again when he dies?” 

“Not the same day. It would be too hard 
on the minister.” 


152 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


He dropped her hand hastily as the voices of 
Sears and Con Ryan were heard. 

“Well, she was in here a minute ago,’' 
growled the husband. “I’ve got to find her.” 

“It’s my husband. Con is trying to quiet 
him,” said Mrs. Sears. 

“Come here, into the conservatory,” com- 
manded Lord Murray. 

He pushed the divan into a corner and 
screened the end on which she was seated by 
dragging a few big palms before it. Then he 
sat beside her, while she trembled with 
fright at the perilous position in which his 
manoeuvre had placed her. 

“What I want to know is, who is she with?” 
said the husband, as he and Con entered. The 
manager caught sight of a woman’s dress 
through the palm leaves, and headed Sears 
away from the screen. 


153 


THE GIRL QUESTION 

“Let’s see who else is missing,” he said. 
“Skinny Jones is there, so’s Kid Hennessy — 
there’s Jake and the undertaker and — ” 

“I’ll bet it’s that Englishman.” 

“Here, have some punch,” invited Con, “you’ll 
feel better. By the way, have you got control 
of the Grand Central Railroad yet? When I 
seen you last you was lookin’ for a block of 
stock.” 

“Yes — and that Englishman’s got that too. I 
can’t seem to connect with him. I want to know 
where he is now and where my wife is.” 

“Never worry because you don’t know where 
your wife is. Wait till you find out where she 
is and then you may have something to worry 
about. Say, I’m kind of thinking of getting 
married myself. What were you making when 
you first got married?” 

“I was making a darned fool of myself. I 
haven’t stopped.” 

154 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“Do you think it’s a good thing for a man to 
marry the second time?” 

“No; but he is. A man shouldn’t marry on 
less than $100,000.” 

“Whew!” whistled Con. “I guess I’m an aw- 
ful piker.” 

“Suppose you got $100,000 — where would 
you live?” 

“Sing-Sing. Have some more punch. Say, 
you married your stenographer, didn’t you ?” 

“Yes. She became so expert at signing my 
name that I had to marry her. But I wasn’t cut 
out for a wife like that. She gets up at noon 
and doesn’t begin to feel right till about four 
A.M.” 

“I’m onto the kind you mean. She ought to 
have married a cab driver, or a conductor on 
an owl car.” 

“I’ve got to find her. I think I’ll put her in 
a cage. Understand what I mean?” 


155 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


He went out, fuming. 

“Say,” muttered Con, as he followed him, “if 
that guy was Adam in the Garden of Eden he’d 
be jealous of the snake.” 

“Gee! that was close!” exclaimed Mrs. Sears, 
greatly relieved. 

“I like it that way, don’t you know,” de- 
clared her companion. 

“Remember the old saying, ‘Only the young 
die good,’ ” she laughed. 

He put his arm around her and drew her 
unresisting to him. 

“What are you thinking about?” she remon- 
strated feebly. 

• “How glad I am that Columbus discovered 
America,” he said, as Sears re-entered, heard 
his voice and confronted them. 

“Jessie, what does this mean?” demanded 
her husband, too astonished at his sudden dis- 
covery to manifest his rage at once. 


156 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“We were discussing history,” she explained, 
hastily straightening up and drawing away 
from Lord Murray. 

“I demand an explanation of you,” thundered 
Sears, addressing his lordship. “You have com- 
promised my wife. Understand what I mean?” 

The Englishman jumped to his feet. 

“I’m a gentleman,” he answered suavely, 
“and if I’ve compromised her I’ll marry her. 
Here, you shall be the first to drink to the 
happy couple.” 

Sears, mad with rage, made for him just as 
Con entered the room. The manager leaped 
between them. 

“Just in time to introduce you,” he cried. 
“This is Lord Murray, who is over here from 
England — ” 

“Just doing the country,” smiled his lord- 
ship. 

“Yes — doin’ the country,” echoed Con. 


157 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“Shake hands with Mr. Sears, he’s in the same 
line of business.” 

Ryan’s intervention had given Mrs. Sears 
time to recover her presence of mind. She be- 
gan a fierce counter attack before her husband, 
choking with fury, could get in a word. 

“This is a fine exhibition you are making of 
yourself,” she cried scathingly, confronting 
him with great scorn. “What do you think 
I am? Do you imagine I am a baby that you 
can keep barred in a high chair? Everybody 
said I was crazy to marry an old fool like you, 
and you begin to make me think that everybody 
was right.” 

“Gee ! this is where I vamp,” said Con to him- 
self, slipping discreetly away. “You got to 
handle a petticoat with gloves when she gets to 
spreadin’ her wings like that.” 

Despite his habitual snubbing and bullying. 
Sears was easily cowed when his wife asserted 
158 



“EVERYBODY SAID I WAS CRAZY TO MARRY AN OLD FOOL LIKE YOU.” 

Page 158 . 



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THE GIRL QUESTION 


herself fearlessly and met him with his own 
weapons. 

“You acted as if you were crazy,” he retorted. 

She saw that her contemptuous attitude had 
weakened him and followed it up with an out- 
burst of violent wrath. 

“I could have married a dozen better men 
than you, and what’s more, I’m going to do it. 
Your first wife must have been a terror, you’re 
so suspicious. Maybe I ain’t such a swell dame 
and all that. I may be a bottle blonde — I never 
said I wasn’t — but I can trim any lady or gent 
that says I am, and there ain’t anybody ^can 
make me go home from this party. There !” 

T. P. Q. Sears, the great theatrical and rail- 
road magnate, unbending tyrant in matters of 
business, was down and out. 

“A husband should know what his wife 
does,” he said mildly. 


159 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“Yes, but not everything she does,” corrected 
Mrs. Sears. 

“I think you’d better excuse me,” ventured 
Lord Murray, embarrassed, deeming that it 
would be advisable to leave the couple to fight 
it out unhampered by the presence of a witness. 

Mrs. Sears put forth a restraining hand. 

“Oh, no, you know we have the next dance 
together,” she said. 

“You must come, too, then, Mr. Sears,” de- 
clared his lordship conciliatingly. “I have a 
perfectly ripping story to tell you. It starts, 
‘Why is the Fourth of July?’” 

“No. I think it’s time for us to go home.” 

“I don’t want to go home,” protested his wife. 
“You never want me to have any fun.” 

“When you know how jealous I am you ought 
to be more careful about letting me see you 
with other men.” 

“I’m just as careful about that as I can be, 
160 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


now. Come on, Lord Murray. Are you ac- 
quainted with the Krag-Andersons ? They live 
out at Oconomoc. I wouldn’t care to live out 
there, though. I do hate to ride on the cars, 
don’t you? It musses up your dresses so. I 
spoiled a lovely crepe de chine that way. It 
was the summer before the year Roosevelt was 
elected. I remember saying to Mr. Sears that 
I hoped he’d win because Alice Blue was so 
becoming to me. Do you think so ? I wore that 
dress the first time at a reception given by Mrs. 
Wilson, the young actress that married that 
young McDonald — you know the family — the 
less said the better — that’s what I always think. 
What was it I started to tell you about?” 

“If Edison had only known about her he’d 
never have tried to spring the phoneygraph.” 
commented Con, who returned in time to hear 
her. 

Sears, who watched his wife go, not daring 
161 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


to raise any further objection, sighed wearily. 

“When she starts talking you never can tell 
where she’ll finish,” he agreed. 

Con, who had not had a minute to himself 
all the evening, and who reasoned that after all 
the fact that Elsie had led the grand march 
with Harold Sears probably had no particular 
significance, set out to look for her, determined 
to declare his suit and settle the matter once 
for all. He wanted to carry out his original 
plan of announcing their engagement at the 
moment of the grand flourish at midnight. 

At that precise moment Harold Sears was 
declaring his own love t« the former cashier 
in a secluded corner under the balcony where 
they were resting from their exertions. 

“Elsie,” he was saying, “I want to ask you 
to marry me. I haven’t much to say about my- 
self. I’ve been a little wild, I guess, but that’s 
all over — has been ever since I met you. I want 
162 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


to tell you frankly that if I marry you the 
governor will disinherit me. I’rn not offering 
you a palace or much in the way of luxuries. 
I’ve got to get out and make my own way, but 
I’m young and strong and with you to help me 
I know I can succeed just as well as my father 
did, though maybe in a different way.” 

Elsie bowed her head with affected shyness 
to hide the triumph that gleamed in her eyes. 
She had been leading up cleverly to this from 
the day she had made a fool of him in the res- 
taurant. If he married her, she would play 
her game so as to become reconciled to Mrs. 
Sears and win over the father so as to ensure 
for herself .and Harold an eventual share of his 
millions. If the young man were dissuaded 
from making her his wife there would be at 
the least a settlement of from $25,000 to $50,- 
000 for breach of promise with the certainty 
of a handsome contract and a star r61e at the 
163 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


theatre, following the wide advertising the suit 
would bring. In either event she had every- 
thing to gain. However, she did not want to 
appear too eager. 

“I’ve heard you were an awfully fast young 
man at college,” she said, “and made love to 
many women.” 

“Not if I knew you were looking. And you 
— have you ever been engaged?” 

“Once or twice — ^just for practice.” 

“How many rivals have I got?” 

“I can count all my suitors on the fingers of 
one hand. Let’s see, the first finger is for Mr. 
Hare, the manager of the theatre, the second 
^ finger is for *Con’ — dear old Con — and my third 
finger — let’s see — who is that finger for? Oh, 
yes, my third finger is for you.” 

He drew a magnificent engagement ring 
from his pocket. 

“You don’t mind if I put this on that finger 


164 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


that belongs to me, do you?” he demanded, as 
he slipped it gently on. 

*‘Oh! Harold!” she cooed. 

“And you will be my wife?” 

“Y— es.” 

Actuated by the same thought they gazed 
quickly around. The draped curtains hanging 
from each corner of the balcony partly hid them 
from view. She bent towards him and a long 
kiss sealed their mutual pledge. 


165 


CHAPTER IX 


A little later Con discovered them, and Elsie 
promptly assumed a stage expression of inno- 
cence. 

‘T don’t want to butt in,” said Con, but you 
promised me a dance, Elsie, and this is the first 
chance I’ve had.” 

“Certainly, that’s all right,” said Harold 
cordially, getting up. “I’ll take you again, 
Elsie, when you’re through.” 

Con looked at him gratefully as he smiled 
his thanks. 

“Do you want to dance this, or wouldn’t you 
rather just talk?” asked Con in tones that im- 
plied that he himself wanted only to talk. 

“I’d much rather talk,” replied the girl to 
humor him, and knowing perfectly well what 
166 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


was coming. '‘We haven’t had a good chat for 
ever so long.” 

“Say — ” he began nervously as he seated him- 
self in the place beside her that young Sears 
had just vacated. He could get no further 
with what he had intended to tell her. 

“I’d rather hear you say it.” 

“Elsie,” he blurted desperately, “I seen young 
Sears has been hangin’ round an awful lot to- 
night, but I know you ain’t the kind to play both 
ends against the centre. When a girl does that 
she usually gets a knot in her string. Do you 
get me?” 

“No — I don’t. Con. Why are you talking 
about Harold being with me?” 

“Let’s get down to the plot of the piece, Elsie. 
I’ve been doping this blow-out for weeks so I 
could let ’em all see that you was the big smoke 
with me. That’s what I want you to be here 
all the time.” 


167 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“But I can’t come back here and work; no 
matter how much I like you and Jo.” 

“Me and Jo!” 

“Yes, of course — ^both of you, and Billy and 
all the girls. I’ve got to make good on the stage, 
unless something else happens. I shall be a 
great actress. Maybe some day you’ll see me 
playing Lady Macbeth.” 

“I wouldn’t care whether you played Lady 
Macbeth or little casino.” 

“Don’t you want me to be a hit?” 

“Yeh — but right here. You always was the 
hit of this place. Every guv that walked up to 
the cashier’s desk thought it was a pleasure to 
hand you money. That’s the way I always felt 
about it — that’s why — ” 

“Harold’s beckoning, it must be his dance,” 
she interrupted. 

“What do we care whose dance it is?” he said 
impatiently. “Elsie, I reckon you know you’ve 
168 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


alw^ays been the blue chip with me. I ain’t got 
any first-class Boston language that ain’t never 
been used yet an’ I ain’t wise to how a guy 
should grab a girl’s lunch-book, an’ break it 
to her like one of them Bertha M. Clay heroes, 
an’ I can’t tip it off to you how I put a crimp 
in Wall Street yesterday. I guess I’m glad I 
ain’t that kind, because I notice that every guy 
that’s wise to what J. Pierp. Morgan is goin’ 
to do next, is rollin’ his own cigarettes. 
You know I ain’t black with the samoleons — I 
couldn’t promise my girl a house that faces 
North, South, East or West — ” 

“Oh, you haven’t told me how you’re going 
to fix the cafe up,” she interrupted again, this 
time hastily. 

“How you and I are, you mean?” he said 
fondly putting out his arm to draw her to him. 

She rose out of reach and gazed at him in 
affected surprise at the remark. 


169 


THE GIRL QUESTION. 


“You and I?” she repeated. 

“Why, wasn’t that the way we framed it in 
the old days?” 

“Oh, you mean I was going to make sugges- 
tions and help plan it? Yes — go on.” 

With a swift look she signalled to Harold, 
who was watching them, to fetch her. 

“I guess maybe there’s something else that 
ought to be settled first,” said Con slowly. 

“Something else? You mean putting in an 
addition, so you can have more tables? Oh, 
you’ll excuse me. Con, won’t you. Here’s Mr. 
Sears coming for his dance.” 

Greatly disconcerted and cursing Harold in 
his heart, he relinquished her to him with the 
best grace he could command under the circum- 
stances. As he stood there, anxious to be alone 
with his trouble, Jo came up. 

“Has the ice cream arrived?” she queried. 

“I think it has,” he said ruefully. 


170 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


^‘What’s the matter?” 

‘‘Nothin’, kid. I guess maybe she didn't 
understand.” 

“No — she couldn’t have,” said Jo conso- 
lingly. “Cheer up, C^n. She’ll come around all 
right.” 

“Yeh — I guess I got to ask her right out, so 
she’ll understand. Anyway I ain’t goin’ around 
throwin’ up the sponge and lookin’ like I was 
practicin’ to be a pall-bearer. I’ve got 
something great up my sleeve. I’m goin’ to pull 
it in a few minutes, just when the New Year’s 
bells start ringin’. I bet that will win her. 
It’ll be a knockout and she ought to fall for it 
great.” ’ 

“Sure she will, Con. Don’t feel sorry.” 

“Gee! you’re a good pal for a guy when he’s 
thinkin’ about doin’ the parachute,” he said, 
gazing at her gratefully, and for the second 
time finding comfort and encouragement from 
171 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


her devotion. “You ain’t got much team work 
about your clothes, but you’re all right. And 
you sent me a New Year present, too,” he 
added, remembering it and taking the box from 
his pocket. “Honest, Jo, you make me feel like 
a piker in a jack pot with one white chip, or a 
paper napkin at a rainy day picnic. You’re 
always doin’ somethin’ nice for me.” 

“Don’t open it yet,” she recommended. 

“No, I won’t. I’ll bet it’s somethin’ swell. 
I—” 

He was interrupted by a terrific racket in the 
barroom, and rushed off, followed by Lord 
Murray and other men. 

“You guys be quiet, or I’ll hang a couple of 
you across the chandelier,” he threatened. 

The college men had done their duty by the 
constable so conscientiously that he was fight- 
ing drunk, but he was no match for their brawn 
and muscle, and when Con entered they had him 
172 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


helpless on the floor and were sitting on him in 
a row. 

“Ain’t it funny,” grumbled Con, as he 
emerged into the ball room again, “that when 
a guy gets on a dress^suit, that’s his cue to begin 
hoisting till he gets so diked up he couldn’t 
jump off the Masonic Temple and hit the 
ground.” 

“Why don’t you call the bobby?” suggested 
Lord Murray. 

“The what?” Con demanded, stopping short. 

“The bobby.” 

“He means the policemen,” explained Sears 
senior, who had also been ■ attracted by the 
noise. 

“Can you beat that?” said Con, looking 
around as if he expected an answer. “If I 
ever called Casey the cop by that name, he’d 
swing on me in the kisses and knock a few 
dominoes down my gurgle.” 

173 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


The dock now marked two minutes of mid- 
night, and Harold Sears, mounting a chair, 
signalled the orchestra to stop, and addressed 
the company who crowded round him. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, “I’d like 
your kind attention for a few minutes — ” 

“Hurray!” cut in Lord Murray. “Somebody 
lend him a small revolver and a couple of gold 
watches.” 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” began Harold again, 
loudly. “It is now about two minutes before 
the beginning of the New Year. Gather around 
and fill your glasses, for at twelve o’clock I 
want you to join with the New Year’s bells in 
a toast to Miss Elsie Davis, formerly of this 
cafe, now the idol of the stage, who has con- 
sented to become my wife!” 

“Damn!” roared the elder Sears, but the 
ejaculation was drowned in the storm of cheer- 
ing and applause which greeted this announce- 
174 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


ment, and which was in progress when a din 
of whistles and bells and tin horns outside an- 
nounced the birth of the new year. Con reeled 
away and sank into a chair in a corner, where, 
unnoticed, he sat with his head in his hands. 

Four policemen in uniform entered and in- 
quired for Jim Casey. 

“Who’s he?” demanded Jo, intercepting them. 

“He’s a constable,” answered the roundsman 
in charge. “He was sent here three hours ago 
to foreclose a mortgage on this place and he 
ain’t reported back for duty.” 

“Please wait a minute,” said the girl, and 
she kept them on one side. 

Billy, after a wild hunt, discovered Con. 

“Is it time fo’ de gran’ surprise? Shall Ah 
do it now?” he asked. 

“Yeh — pull anything you want to — I don’t 
care,” replied Con dejectedly. 

**Ah guess only about one of ’em can sing, 


175 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


but All’ll bring him out. Ah doan know ’bout 
’at ’lectric lights — maybe it’ll work,” and the 
black cook shuffled off. 

Harold, when a semblance of quietness had 
been restored, addressed the company once 
more. 

“And now, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “I 
think Mr. Ryan has a little surprise in store 
for us.” 

“Hurray!” shouted the guests. 

“Please keep quiet and watch the balcony,” 
he requested. 

In another moment the electric greeting 
flashed out : “Happy New Year to Elsie.” 

The company again burst into a storm of 
applause, and before it had subsided Billy ap- 
peared struggling with the intoxicated and 
badly used up constable, whom the college men, 
too intoxicated themselves to be further inter- 
ested in, had left propped up in a corner, 
176 


THE GIRL QUESTION 

mumbling his writ to himself. Billy, seeing the 
paper in the man’s hand and being unable to 
find any trace of the singers, had jumped to the 
conclusion that he must be one of them, and, 
determined to make the best of the situation, 
had yanked him onto the balcony and ordered 
him to sing on pain of having his “block 
knocked off,” among other dire consequences. 

In a loud, if thick voice, the man announced 
that the mortgage had been foreclosed, and 
read the dispossess writ. At the same time 
the policemen — having by this act been ap- 
prised of his whereabouts, appeared on the 
balcony. 

I The sight of the uniformed men started a 
stampede of the guests, who, unable to under- 
stand the situation, were under the impression 
that the place was being raided. 

In a few minutes the ball room had been 
emptied. 

177 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


Half an hour later, Con, having been made 
acquainted with the state of affairs by the 
policemen and accepted service of the dispossess 
papers, sat alone in the deserted and darkened 
ball room, sobbing aloud in his misery. His 
hand thrust mechanically in his coat pocket 
encountered the box containing Jo’s present. 
He opened it, drew forth the paper and 'read: 

“May you always be as happy as you are 
to-night. Please accept this from your old pal, 

“Josephine.” 


178 


CHAPTER X 


Little less busy than the Golden Palace Res- 
taurant had been under the management of Con 
Ryan were the offices of the Western Theat- 
rical Association, T. P. Q. Sears, president, into 
which the building had been transformed. Con, 
with many a sigh, had witnessed the workmen 
demolishing this palace where he had hoped to 
accomplish his ambition and rule supreme, 
with Elsie as his wife and queen enthroned 
once more at the cashier’s desk and attracting 
custom as of old. His air castles rudely shat- 
tered, he had abandoned the restaurant busi- 
ness as being fraught with constant reminders, 
every one of which would be a fresh wound to 
his lacerated heart and pride, and had pro- 
cured employment at the precarious occupation 
of a book canvasser on commission. 


179 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


Two other figures that had been familiar at 
the Golden Palace had entered upon new func- 
tions in the offices of Mr. Sears. They were 
Josephine Sargent and Billy the cook. Having 
sized up the girl as being possessed of precisely 
those qualities of self-possession, assurance, 
common sense and discretion, which combine to 
make an ideal confidential secretary, and being, 
moreover, influenced by her attractive personal- 
ity, the great man had made an offer for her ser- 
vices that had they known of it would have 
caused every other lady typewriter and office 
factotum in La Salle Street to turn green with 
envy and become incontinently dissatisfied with 
her own salary. 

Jo, having quickly accustomed her mind and 
fingers to the writing machine, sat at a desk in 
the outer office and varied her t3q)ewriting per- 
formances by answering telephone calls and 
preserving her employer from the army of ap- 
180 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


plicants for work and would-be interviewers 
on every conceivable subject who thronged the 
offices from 9 A.M. to 5 P.M. Brisk of manner, 
neat and trim in her shirt-waist and black dress, 
quick to judge the importance or otherwise of 
callers, and to settle at once questions that did 
not call for decision by Mr. Sears, she was the 
highest personification of that wonderful prod- 
uct of our times, the American woman of 
business. She had come into a part of the for- 
tune Lord Murray had so generously brought 
her, and which he had advanced out of his own 
ample means pending the settlement of the legal 
formalities which were taking longer than he 
had bargained for, so that it was not from 
necessity of earning a living that she buckled 
down daily to her really hard and fatiguing 
work. But she had a fixed purpose in pursu- 
ing the course she had adopted. Moreover, 
with the comforting knowledge that her future 
181 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


was assured, that she was then and for all time 
independent of the world, which is so merciless 
to those dependent upon it, she enjoyed hugely 
her experience as an office employee. It was 
so different from the position of waitress in 
which she previously had earned her living. 
The purpose to which she clung thus steadfastly 
was associated with the welfare of Con Ryan, 
who was the one being on earth for whom she 
cared. Con, however, knew no more about this 
than did anyone else. And aside from Lord 
Murray and the lawyers concerned not a living 
soul was aware of the windfall that had come 
to her. Lord Murray was utterly unable 
to comprehend her attitude, and could 
only put it down to a puzzling exhibition 
of American eccentricity; but he respected 
loyally her wish that the matter of her fortune 
should remain a secret. 

Con, in his grief and humiliation had re- 
182 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


frained from seeing her since the double catas- 
trophe that had overwhelmed him at the birth 
of the year. For nine months he had avoided 
all those with whom he once was on such cor- 
dial terms. But Jo was frequently uppermost 
in his thoughts. He remembered with tender- 
ness the constant solicitude his boyhood sweet- 
heart had manifested for him, how devotedly 
she had stood by him in his trouble. The more 
he thought of her, the more did he realize what 
his insensate infatuation for Elsie Davis had 
caused him to miss in the little waitress. Now 
that he had been radically cured of his passion 
he was able to understand the folly of it, and 
that Elsie would not have made for him the 
kind of a wife he needed. 

A longing to see Jo again took possession of 
him. Winter and summer had gone and the 
late fall season had arrived. Several times he 
had passed the ofTices of the Western Theatrical 
183 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


Association, where he had learned she, was em- 
ployed, without being able to summon up 
courage and enter. He was at a loss for a pre- 
text; moreover he hated Sears with a bitter 
hatred for his action in seizing the place and 
ousting him without warning or the slightest 
compunction when the chance for which he had 
worked so hard and waited so long finally had 
come to him. He now reasoned that this re- 
sentment pushed to the length of injuring him- 
self, and of which the object of it was utterly 
oblivious, was foolish. It occurred to him that 
an attempt to sell some books to the capitalist 
would be a good excuse for entering the place, 
and the resolution to do so engendered a vague 
hope that if he saw him Sears might somehow 
in some way help him to a better job. Book can- 
vassing was not exactly a congenial occupation 
to the unlettered Con, and though, owing to his 
natural aplomb, contagious good humor and 
184 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


gift of the gab, he would have made a success 
as a commercial traveler in almost any other 
line, he had failed lamentably in that he had 
elected to follow, with the result that he was 
as he expressed it to himself, “on his uppers.” 
Perhaps any chance of success at it had been 
rendered impossible by the fact that his mis- 
fortune and crushing disappointment had made 
him listless and choked the well spring of 
his humor, which only now was starting up 
again with spasmodic bubblings. 

Jo, seated at her desk, had, with a glib pre- 
text, refused over the telephone a request for 
theatre tickets, made as soon as the office had 
opened, when Billy approached her. It was 
evident from his eagerness that he was the 
bearer of important tidings. 

‘“E paper ’is mawnin’ says ’at Miss Elsie an’ 
young Harold Sears done got married,” he said. 
“Mah goodness!” 


185 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“Yeh — they were married yesterday. I sup- 
pose Mr. Sears saw it, because it’s in all the 
papers. He’ll be all up in the air when he comes 
in, so look out.” 

“Yessum. Ah seen Mistah Con yes’day. Ah 
reckon he’s up agin it pretty hard ’ese days.” 

“Ah, you did?” 

“Yessum, Miss Sargent,” went on Billy see- 
ing she was interested. “Ah seen him eatin’ 
down in ’e basement lunch counter where you 
get rolls an’ coffee fer fi’ cents.” 

Jo, who had taken down the receiver to call 
up a telephone number, put it back with a vio- 
lence that nearly broke it. 

“Honest, Billy?” she demanded, deep com- 
miseration in her eyes. 

“Sho’ ’nough. ’At’s where Ah eat mah-self 
when ’em policy numbers don’t use me right. 
He sho’ looked shabby, too.” 

“You don’t say?” 


186 


THE GIRL QUESTION. 


‘Tessum.’’ 

Jo’s heart swelled with pity and she lapsed 
into a reverie of great seriousness, seeing which, 
and that she had no inclination to talk further, 
Billy went away. Her cogitations were inter- 
rupted by the arrival of Tessie and Sybil. 

“Is Mr. Sears in?” inquired the former. 

“No,” replied Jo. 

“Well, we’ll wait a few minutes,” said Sybil. 
“We’re in vaudeville now, so we came down to 
see Mr. Sears. How much time do you think we 
could get?” 

“The judge will decide that after the jury 
is in.” 

Jo had hardly delivered herself of this wit- 
ticism when Mr. Sears entered hurriedly, threw 
his hat to Billy, brushed by the people waiting 
in the outer office and went into his sanctum, 
where Jo followed him. 

“Any telegrams?” he demanded. 


187 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“No, sir,” said the girl. 

“These letters all ready to sign?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“I’m not in to anybody. Understand what 
I mean?” 

“Yes, sir. A gentleman is waiting to see you. 
Here is his card. He would not say what he 
wanted. Then there is a Mr. Smith. He says 
he is an author and wants to show you a play.” 

“What does the man who wouldn’t tell his 
business look like?” 

“Distinguished.” 

“Well, I suppose I’d better see ’em.” 

The first visitor was duly ushered into the 
magnate’s presence. In a moment he came out 
with a disconcerted air and the telephone bell 
on Jo’s desk rang violently. 

“Tell that black loafer if he lets in any more 
book agents I’ll fire him. Understand?” came 
Sears’ angry voice when she responded. 

188 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“Yes, sir,” she said. “There’s a man here 
says he wants to see you about half an hour.” 

“Tell him the subject doesn’t interest me.” 

“He says he wants to show you how to make 
a lot of money.” _ 

“Nobody can show me anything about how 
to make money.” 

“He says he can wait.” 

“Tell him not to, and send that author in. 
And, by the by, I’m expecting Lord Murray 
with that block of Grand Central stock. Has 
he been in?” 

‘No, sir, not to-day.” 

“I’ve got to get that before this evening. 
Call up his hotel and see if you can reach him 
in any way. Understand what I mean?” 

“Yes sir,” answered Jo with a quiet smile. 

The playwright entered the inner office tim- 
idly. 

“Sit down,” invited Sears without looking up 


189 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


from the letter he was about to sign. “What 
have you got?” 

“A play.” 

“Is it funny?” 

“My friends say it’s funnier than ‘Charlie’s 
Aunt.’ ” 

“Then make me laugh.” 

“It’s called ‘The Isle of Bungaloo,’ a musical 
comedy in two acts.” 

The author read on till the president of 
the Western Theatrical Association stopped 
him. 

“Read me one of the jokes,” he requested. 

“The best one I have is ‘Why is the Fourth 
of July?”’ 

“That will do,” said Sears hurriedly. “Leave 
your book here and drop in som.e time next 
year and we’ll let you know about it then.” 

Meanwhile Tessie had approached Billy. The 
latter was ordering about with lordly import- 
190 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


ance callers who made known that their mis- 
sion was to procure employment. 

“You’re pretty much the whole thing around 
here, aren’t you, now?” said the girl. 

“Yes — me an’ Mr. Sears. I lets the people in 
and Mistah Sears he lets ’em out.” 

“Will you get Mr. Sears to see us?” 

“Yo’ want me to use mah pusson’l influence 
wif Mistah Sears! Ah don’t reckon Ah could 
do it. You see we all is mighty good frens — 
Mistah Sears an’ me an’ — ’’(Tessie slipped 
a dollar into his hand) “but I reckon ’at for 
you’ Ah might use all ’e influence ’ith him Ah 
got.” 

“You’re next,” called Jo to the girls. 

Tessie, as she went in with Sybil, cast a sav- 
age look at Billy. 

“What do you want?” demanded Sears with 
scant politeness. 

“We want to go into vaudeville— a sister act. 

, 191 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


We both sing beautiful. We was an awful hit 
at Proctor’s Fifth Avenue last month, but the 
old stage manager didn’t know nothin’ about 
art and put us in the super show. If it hadn’t 
been for that we’d be booked solid till next June. 
We girls is so unfortunate. That’s what it is 
to be a lady even though you has to work. 
Can’t we get you to help us out?” 

“No, that’s what I keep a porter for.” 

“A refined knock-about act?” 

“Yes, all the managers knocked about it.” 

He pressed a button and Jo entered. 

“Take the names and addresses of these 
ladies,” he ordered. “I don’t know what they 
want. Tell them to write down what they said 
and mail it to me and I’ll read it. Haven’t time 
to listen.” 

When Jo emerged she found Con standing 
in the outer office reeling off mechanically a 
cut-and-dried argument. 

192 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“I suppose,” he was saying, “you have heard 
of the failure of Henderson, Adams & Co., 
which enabled our firm to offer these splendid 
volumes of the favorite poets, half morocco and 
the other half — I don’t know what the other 
half is — the other half-tones, I guess. Each 
volume is guaranteed to weigh six pounds 
an’—” 

He broke short off and his face brightened 
with a glad smile as he saw Jo. 

“Hello, Kid!” he said. “You’re lookin’ fine. 
How’s business?” 

“Mine’s great, how’s yours?” she replied, 
looking him over while her heart thumped vio- 
lently. 

“A knock-out,” he said with affected careless- 
ness, and a gleam of his old-time geniality. 
“Do me a favor, kid. Slip one of these favorite 
poets to the boss and see if he’d care for it.” 

Without a word the girl took the book, en- 
193 


THE GIRL QUESTION. 


tered Sears’ office, picked up the letters he had 
signed, and came out again. 

“He says he’ll take one,” she lied. “How 
much is it?” 

“No, did he though?” he said with joyful 

t 

surprise. “Well, it’s a dollar fifty — ^that’s twen- 
ty-five cents a pound.” 

She took the money from her purse and 
handed it to him. 

“Gee!” he said, forgetting himself. “That’s 
the first one in three weeks.” 

There was no answering smile of cheerful- 
ness on her face, and she remarked gravely : 

“I thought you said business was good?” 

“Well,” said Con, weakly, with a sickly 
smile and a gulp in his throat, “maybe mine ain’t 
but the papers say it’s great out on La Salle 
Street. What’s the matter,” he added, trying to 
divert attention from himself. “The type- 
writer looks like it’s broke.” 


194 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“Yes — rm always broke.” 

“Is it hard to fix a typewriter?” 

“Costs ten to fix me when I hear something. 
Did you see in the papers this morning about 
Elsie’s marriage to Harold?” 

“Yeh — I suppose His Nobs had the rabies,” 
and he pointed with his thumb in the direction 
of the inner office. 

“Con,” she said lowering her voice. 

“Yes, kid?” he interrogated. 

“Do you still care for her?” 

“No — not that way,” he answered sheepishly, 
fidgeting from foot to foot. “Ain’t it funny 
I used to think I wanted to marry her? I 
’spose you can’t account for a guy not knowing 
what he wants. I wasn’t really in love with 
her.” 

“Yes you were.” 

“Well, I wasn’t in the way I’ve been since 


195 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


with somebody else. Say, I heard a funny 
crack to-day.” 

“Never mind that. Tell me on the square, 
are you getting along all right?” 

He averted his gaze, which she sought to 
catch, and became deeply interested in a cal- 
endar on the opposite wall as he replied eva- 
sively : 

“Sure — I guess there ain’t nothin’ in the book 
business, but I got a lot of ideas that are 
knock-outs.” 

“Got any money?” 

The question thus bluntly put made him still 
more uncomfortable. 

“Sure,” he said, still trying to head her off. 
“Listen.” 

He rattled his pocket. 

“Take out the money I just gave you.” 

He obeyed her as in the old days when they 


196 



HE PRODUCED A KNIFE, A BUNCH OF KEYS AND THE TWENTY 

DOLLAR GOLD PIECE. 


Pitge 197 . 



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THE GIRL QUESTION 


were children and she bossed him ; then he rat- 
tled his pocket again, triumphantly. 

“Let’s see,” she commanded. 

“Oh, that’s all right,” he said. “Don’t you 
mind about me. I've got money.” 

“If you don’t show I’ll never speak to you 
again,” she threatened. 

He looked at her hesitatingly. There was 
earnest resolve in her face. 

“Out with it!” she ordered. 

He produced a knife, a bunch of keys and the 
twenty dollar gold piece she had mounted for 
his watch chain as the New Year gift. 

“You’ve kept that twenty-dollar gold piece I 
gave you that night,” she said, touched almost 
to tears. 

“Yeh — I’ve been awfully close to the limit 
sometimes, but I ain’t spent that yet. I’ve been 
floatin’ around with the boys on the corners 


197 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


that ain’t strong on nothin’ but base-ball scores 
an’ the chorus of ‘Waltz Me Around Again Wil- 
lie.’ They got my watch and most everything 
else but that. Are you kind of glad I didn’t 
spend it, kid?” 

“Am I!” 

A whole world of delight, of tenderness, of 
emotion was in the tone of the exclamation and 
in the look she gave him. 

Her manner changed instantly as she sud- 
denly realized that the waiting men and women 
were watching them, and as at the same mo- 
ment Harold Sears and Elsie Davis entered the 
office. 

“Gee!” she said, “here’s Harold and Elsie. 
Now there’ll be something doing. Come around 
and fetch me to-night. I want to talk to you. 
We quit at five o’clock.” 

“Sure, I’ll be back at that time, sharp.” 

As he passed out Elsie greeted him. 


198 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“Why, hello, Con,” she said. “I’m awfully 
glad to see you.” 

“Hello, Elsie,” he answered with a cheerful 
smile, as he went on without stopping. 

“I guess I’ve changed a lot,” he muttered, as 
he reached the street. “Yeh — I guess I’ve 
changed a lot. She looks pretty flossy all right 
and that’s all I used to think about. 
She’s a swell looking dame to take to the thea- 
tre, but not for me to marry.” 

The elder Sears, apprised of the arrival of 
his son with his bride, instructed Jo mildly to 
show them in. To the girl’s surprise a smile 
flickered over his face. It had died out, how- 
ever, and he looked stern as Harold and Elsie, 
terribly embarrassed, walked in. 

“Well, what do you want?” was the old man’s 
blunt greeting. 

“I — I suppose you know we’re married?” 
ventured Harold, falteringly. 


199 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“Yes,” he admitted. “I read all about it in 
the papers this morning.” He added sarcas- 
tically, turning to Elsie : “I suppose I’m glad to 
see you. Anyway, it was a rather clever piece 
of work on your part, young woman, and if 
Harold was worth a damn I’d congratulate you. 
Understand what I mean?” 

“Thank you — you’re just as flattering as you 
are polite,” she retorted coldly. 

“But there’s no use misunderstanding each 
other. You ought to know that since he has 
married against my wishes my son doesn’t re- 
ceive a cent of my money.” 

“Dad, you don’t mean that,” remonstrated 
Harold. 

. “Don’t I? Wait and see!” was the grim re- 
joinder. 

“What do we care, Harold?” chimed in Elsie. 
“It would have been nice to have some— but 
when you consider how he made it — ” 


200 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


"‘How I made it?” snapped Sears. “What’s 
the difference — just so I did?” 

Elsie burst into a silvery laugh. 

“I wanted to see how easily I could make you 
lose your temper. You were trying to be sar- 
castic before and you were rather proud of the 
way you were doing it, so I just thought I’d 
show you how easily I could make you drop it.” 

The magnate was astounded. He gazed at 
her handsome face, wreathed in smiles, and 
into the big violet eyes that met his fearlessly. 

“You’ve got so much nerve you might be in- 
teresting,” he commented finally. “Sit down.” 

“Governor, you were telling me the other day 
I was a fine specimen of American manhood,” 
said his son earnestly. “I’ve been thinking 
about that — maybe I used to get drunk a lot and 
helped increase the revenues of owl cars, but 
I’m on the water wagon now — lashed to the 
tank. Have you ever done anything to benefit 
201 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


your country? All you do is to grab all the 
money you can — ^buy up Senators and contribute 
to a campaign fund for buying red fire to con- 
vince the common people your candidate is the 
better man because he has the biggest bonfire. 
You needn’t talk about me. What would Abra- 
ham Lincoln and Thomas Jefferson have said 
about patriots like you?” 

T. P. Q. Sears listened to this fine burst of 
righteous eloquence v^ithout manifesting the 
least perturbation or indignation. 

“You,” he retorted, pointing an accusing fin- 
ger at him, “you’ve been to see George Cohan 
again!” 

But Harold, all worked up and regardless of 
consequences, hurled this challenge at his 
parent : 

“What have you ever done to uplift the com- 
mon people?” 

“I married my stenographer. I saved the first 


202 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


dollar I ever earned and I’ve got it yet. But 
what good does it do me to have a son like you 
— to know that after I die my son will be the 
biggest scoundrel in Chicago?” 

“Yes — when you die,’* flashed Elsie. 

“You ought to be proud of what you’ve got,” 
sneered the old man. “He hasn’t a cent and he 
doesn’t know anything.” 

“Why, he’s been through college.” 

“I said he didn’t know anything. Anyway, 
he ought to know how to treat a wife.” 

“You mean because he’s treated so many? I 
know all about Harold, Mr. Sears, you can’t tell 
me anything new. I know how wild he was 
at college, but I love him, and he’s going 
to be a man, even if all he owns now does 
amount only to some clothes, a few hat boxes, 
some golf clubs and a trunk full' of medals.” 

“Yes — he can do a hundred yards in ten 
seconds. That will be useful in a flat. Can you 
203 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


support him in the style to which he has been 
accustomed? He usually requires an allowance 
of fifty thousand a year outside of bills for plate 
glass windows that he breaks. Then he’s 
always falling in love with some fool 
woman, as he did with you. When he does, you 
can pass all this good advice on to the next 
one.” 

“Governor,” exclaimed Harold jumping up 
indignantly, “we won’t stay here to be insulted. 
Come on, Elsie.” 

“Just a moment,” said his bride. “I hate to 
leave when your father has his sarcastic man- 
ner on. He really does it so well. I simply 
want to assure you, Mr. Sears, that my salary 
on the stage will keep us very comfortably until 
Harold gets started in business, so don’t worry 
on his account. Meanwhile, I want to thank 
you for a very instructive morning. I’ve always 
wanted to see a man like you at close range. 

204 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


You’re really amusing. Good-bye. We’ve had 
a very pleasant time — do come and see us, won’t 
you?” 

She moved towards the door, followed by 
Harold, but the old man jumped from his chair 
and grabbed them. 

“Come here,” he commanded. “Anybody that 
can stand the gaif as well as you have has sim- 
ply got to be in my family. I never met a 
woman like you. You can handle Harold bet- 
ter than I can. If you had stood for what I 
said just to get my money, you’d never have 
seen a cent of it. Understand what I mean?” 

He took her in his arms and kissed her. Then 
he shook hands heartily with his son. 

“Now, children,” he beamed, “you must leave 
me. I’m awfully busy. Go out and buy up 
the whole town, except what I own, and 
leave the bill to me. And come around to-night 
and square it with your — er— mother.” And 
205 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


he winked at Harold, as the young man, tread- 
ing on air, went out with his equally happy 
bride. 

Old Sears sat smiling, lost in thought, for 
fully five minutes after they had gone. Then 
as mechanically he took up the ticker tape and 
glanced at the figures on it as it glided between 
his fingers, he brought his mind back to busi- 
ness. 

“That Grand Central is going sky-high,” he 
growled, looking worried and pacing the room 
with the tape in his hand. “If I don’t get that 
block of stock by to-morrow, the bears will 
close in and the bubble will bust. If I could get 
some way of forcing that Englishman — ” 

He called Jo on the telephone. 

“Haven’t we heard from Lord Murray yet?” 
he asked. 

“He wasn’t in when we called up,” replied 
the girl who had been talking to the English- 
206 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


man seated at that moment beside her desk. 

“The transfer of stock has been fixed up,” 
said Lord Murray, resuming their conversation 
when she had hung up the receiver. “Here’s 
the deed all executed. I wish you all the luck 
and happiness in the world, cousin.” 

And he shook hands with her in his hearty 
way. 

“I never can thank you the way I want to,” 
replied the girl. “Are you going to stay in 
this country?” 

“No — I don’t think it suits me quite as well 
as the old place. I love everything about the 
little Isle — the routine ways of doing things — 
the theatres in the Strand — the — yes, even the 
blessed fog. I’m going back to the land where 
there’s only one King — God save him!” 

“One may be all right in England,” laughed 
Jo, “but you’ve got to have three or better over 
here. Gopd-bye.” 


207 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“Mind,” he said, “if you ever take it into your 
head to come home, if only for a visit, let me 
know so that I can meet you.” 

The buzzer summoning her to Sears’ office 
began to hum even as she started to go there. 

“Damn it. I’ve got to have that stock. I 
must swing this deal,” he said. “Call an auto- 
mobile. I must find Murray if I have to hunt 
over all Chicago.” 

“He was here a moment ago,” she observed. 

He looked at her in furious amazement. 

“And you didn’t let me know?” he gasped, 
almost suffocating. “Where is he? Get him 
at once. What’s the matter with you, any- 
how?” 

“Nothing,” she replied coolly. “There was no 
occasion for you to see him. He came to see 
me. I have the stock.” 

“What, that Grand Central? You? What do 
you mean?” 


208 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


“It was my inheritance from my father’s 
family in England. I’ll tell you about it some 
time. But do you want to buy it?” 

^ “You’re stark crazy,” he declared. “You 
couldn’t inherit it. Prove it.” 

She handed him a bundle of legal papers with 
the stock transfer certificate. He perused 
them carefully. 

“It’s true,” he said, looking up at her. “Well, 
I’ll be — ” 

“No occasion,” she broke in. “Do you want 
to buy the stock?” 

“This minute.” 

“I’ll let it go at the market rate, but there’s 

\ 

a condition attached. You’ve got to agree to 
move out of these offices — turn them back into a 
restaurant and lease it rent free for three years 
to Mr. Con Ryan.” 

He hesitated. 

“This stock’s been jumping all day,” re- 
209 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


marked the girl carelessly. “It’ll be worth 
twenty years’ rent of this place more before the 
market closes.” 

He frowned and gazed at her quizzically for 
a moment. 

“All right,” he said, making up his mind. 
“It’s a deal. I’ll give you a formal receipt for 
the stock, and you can change at your leisure 
the contract I had drawn up for that English- 
man, by inserting a clause covering this agree- 
ment and substituting your name for his. I 
haven’t time to bother about it now. Turn on 
the phonograph.” 

She did so and he dictated into it the follow- 
ing: 

“It is further agreed and covenanted that in 
consideration of the said transfer of one thou- 
sand shares of Grand Central preferred, the 
party of the first part shall fully equip said 

I 

property as a restaurant the same to be 


210 


THE GIRL QUESTION. 


leased, rent free for three years, to Mr. Con 
Ryan.” 

Without another word he darted out, growl- 
ing as he signalled to a passing motor cab ; 

*‘Of course Tm going to lose that girl now 
she’s got all that money, confound it. I’ll never 
find her like in all Chicago, or any other place 
for that matter. If I’d married her instead 
of Jessie — ” 

The office was deserted when Con, a little late 
in keeping his appointment, entered. He was 
down in the mouth, for he had walked his legs 
off, and used every persuasive argument backed 
up by a revival of his old-time humor, in an 
effort to make a little money so that he could 
take Jo out to supper in style. She was busy in 
Mr. Sears’ private office. He could see her sil- 
houette through the glass door, so he waited 
by her desk. 

“Gee! ain’t made a sale to-day except the 


211 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


one she staked me to,” he soliloquized sadly. 
“Well, it ain’t no use beeffin’ over spilt milk. 
There’s thousands of cows making new milk 
every day. Pipe the phoney graph,” he added 
noticing the instrument on her open desk. 
“Wonder what it plays?” 

There being no one save Jo in the place he 
set the machine going. It repeated the 
clause Sears had dictated. 

“What’s this, Jo?” he inquired, as the girl 
at the noise came out of the inner office. “Have 
I been smokin’, or vhat was that all about?” 

“Just what you heard. Con Ryan,” she said. 

“You always were good at framin’ up jokes,” 
he grinned. 

“This is no joke, it’s on the dead level. 
Look.” 

She handed him the receipt for stock which 
Sears had scribbled, and then explained why 
he had dictated the clause. To further con- 
212 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


vince him she showed him the contract that 
had been drawn up in preparation for the Eng- 
lishman’s visit. 

“And we’re goin’ to get this place back again 
as a beanery because you helped him get this 
stock?” he said, hot understanding that the 
securities belonged to her. 

“Yes.” 

Con waltzed about in his glee. 

“Can you imagine how it’ll be?” he said, stop- 
ping in front of the happy girl. “I’ll brace up 
to ’em at the door like this. ‘Good evening, Mr. 
Hennessy — right over this way. This table 
by the window. Here’s a paper. Yeh — ^Murphy 
is doing some great work with the stick for the 
Sox. Say, do you see that guy over there, that’s 
the Governor of Illinois. Yeh — that’s him. He 
eats here.’ Then you’ll come waltzin’ in with 
about a ton of glass and crockery — No, you 
won’t. It’s funny I was dreamin’ all the time 
213 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


that you’d be there, too. Of course you wouldn’t 
be coming back to be a waitress. You’ll keep 
your job here. I ain’t so sure I want the old 
place. And, anyhow, why did you do this for 
me?” 

“Ain’t it natural? Ain’t you the only pal I 
ever had?” 

“I dunno. It’s a cinch you’re the only real 
one I ever had — the pal that’s stood by me. It’s 
funny — I’ve been figurin’ about you in all my 
plans lately. It was sort of you I was plannin’ 
for.” 

She placed both hands on his shoulders. 

“Was it. Con — honest?” she demanded, gaz- 
ing into his eyes. 

“I know what you mean — you mean her. El- 
sie. I was sort of dippy over her at one time. 
I guess I wanted to cop her out because I seen 
every other guy tryin’ to do the same thing. 
I didn’t have as good judgment then as I’ve 
214 


THE GIRL QUESTION 

got now. When I look back I see things a 
whole lot clearer. Remember how you used to 
keep Elsie from hurtin’ my feelings — not that 
she’d intend to, you know, but just by not un- 
derstanding me like you did — and how you used 
to help me try to make good with her, and how 
I used to come to you when I wasn’t sure what 
to do? I thought I couldn’t do without Elsie — 
but now I know that it was you I was dependin’ 
on all the time. If I start in now 
— and I sure will get someone to back me with 
money to carry on when the place is fixed 
for business — maybe in a couple of years I’ll 
have somethin’ — and — and — Gee! if I had the 
nerve, I’d offer it all to you.” 

“Try it,” she said, her eyes lighting up with 
the joy of her love requited at last. 

“Jo,” he murmured huskily, “can you wait?” 

“That’s my job,” she answered, as he folded 
her in his arms. 

215 


THE GIRL QUESTION 


She nestled there, receiving his caresses with 
ecstacy, her love-hungry soul feasting upon the 
joy of the knowledge that he was hers for ever, 
rejoicing in the unsuspected wealth with which 
she would astonish him later, and which was 
all for him. 




216 


The Time, The Place and 
The Girl 

Founded on the Play of Will M. Hough 
and Frank R. Adams 

A COMPANION BOOK TO ‘‘THE GIRL QUESTION" 

By 

JOHN W. HARDING 

Author of 

“The Girl Question," “Paid in Full," “The Chorus Lady," etc. 


A triangular love classic, mostly in up-to-date slang, based 
upon the play which has amused hundreds of thousands 
of theatre goers in its triumphant progress through the 
country. 

“The Time, the Place and The Girl," has taken a high 
place in popular favor. It is a story that is genuinely 
humorous, but in which the note of tenderness is adroitly 
introduced and sustained with subdued tone to the end. 

Happy Johnny Hicks, the honest gambler, a mentor in 
the love affairs of Tom Cunningham, gentleman, his 
wealthy friend and patron, is the more droll in that when 
the chance of putting his preaching into practice himself 
is furnished by sprightly and witty Mollie Kelly, he gets 
“stage fright,” hears “funny noises under his bonnet," and 
his throat becomes so dry that he “can’t talk and has to 
lunch on his Adam’s apple." 


12mo, Cloth Bound, with Illustrations, Sl.OO 

G. W. DlllINGHAM CO., Poblisliers, 119-121 W. 23il Street, New York 





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